"Thank you so much for inviting me to come along on your wild adventures tonight!" my sister excitedly said, twirling her body around the pole inside the party bus I had reserved for the evening. "You know what tonight is at The Night Lovers Club, right?"

I laughed because I had already checked out the calendar of events for the evening at the club—the exact reason I said we were making a pit stop at the club. Of course, I also chose to stop there, hoping the one and only motherfucker I know would be there. It's been months since he last gave me shit through an email, and I've been craving another argument. I'd start one, but for some strange reason, he hasn't given me any ammo to do so. He's been actually quite pleasant to deal with, and it has me wondering why.

Was my last email calling him out on his bullshit enough for him to see that he needs to knock his shit off? Because since that email, he has not sent another harassing, demanding, ridiculous email. The emails he has sent have been actually nice, thoughtful, and professional.

However, even though he's been pleasant to deal with, I'm not convinced he ended this war between him and me. Instead, I think he's purposely being nice because he's planning something heavy on me—something so off the wall that it'll blindside me. I also feel he backed off to give me some time to cool off. But then again, I did ask that he not talk to me or send me ridiculous emails unless they pertained to work, and he granted me that one small request—for the time being. Because, well, it's Callum, and he can't help himself from not wanting to give me a hard time—three months has been a long time for him to stay away, and I feel his quietness is about to end—soon.

"You're welcome," Isabelle told her as she handed out the jello shots she had made for us. "And yes, we know what's going on there tonight. Eloise gave us an itinerary about what we'll be doing at each nightclub we hit tonight, and I cannot wait to make an ass out of myself at the sex club," she giggled.

"Thanks for talking us into becoming members, also," Tallulah chimed in, squeezing the jello shot into her mouth. "I never thought I'd be one, but because Jace and his friends enjoy hanging out there, and how he's been on me to join so we could hit the private rooms and explore what having a much spicier sex life would be like, I couldn't resist filling out the paperwork."

"Same here," Shelby, Hudson's new wife, said. "He's also been on me for months to sign up."

"I've been a member there for a while but hid it from Greyson," Amanda, Greyson's wife, admitted. "I figured to become a member for the just in case I needed to go in and drag him out," she laughed.

"Greyson would never cheat on you. From my understanding, they know they'll be left alone if they go there just to shoot the shit. No phones. No, nothing. Just six best friends from childhood hanging out and talking while looking at tits and ass, walking around them without giving them money like they'd have to do at a strip club. And they also go there for new ideas to use in the bedroom," Tallulah said, taking another jello shot. "Damn, these are good," she moaned, licking jello off her lips.

Isabelle sat beside me, her hand resting on my thigh and her head on my shoulder. Isabelle and I have been best friends since high school. She's also the one who talked me into going into Wish Upon A Star for an interview. She knew I didn't have any qualifications for the position, but she told me that they were desperate for an executive administrative assistant and that there would be no way they would turn me down. Apparently, everyone they'd been hiring would last a week, maybe two, because of Callum. And she felt that because I'm a fast learner and have no filter, and always say what's on my mind, I'd be the one who would set Callum straight. To make him quit being such an ass to all of his employees.

And so far, it seems to be working. So far...

"So, Eloise. How's it been going with the boss?"

"The last three months have been nice with him, actually. But I feel his niceness is about to end soon."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because the man can't help himself," I groaned. "That's why. He's an asshole that chose to be nice—temporarily. I've gotten to know him well enough to know that these last three months of him playing nice are just to throw me off. He's planning something. And he's planning something good that'll piss me off so much I'll lose it, giving him all the evidence he needs to fire me. Even though the emails I sent telling him to fuck off would have been enough to fire me. But then again, it was insensitive of him to make me work while I attended my grandmother's funeral. So, if he did fire me, I'd win if I went after him for unemployment."

"Callum isn't that bad once you get to know him. He just likes running a tight ship," Isabelle said, trying to make him look like he was a good guy when he clearly wasn't.

"How do you know him, anyway? You've never said."

She lifted her head from my shoulder, twisting her lips. "Rory used to be the co-owner of Wish Upon A Star. He sold Callum his share of the company a couple of years ago to start his own company."

I don't blame him for going off on his own. I would, too, if I were partners with Callum.

"What's his deal, anyway? Why is he such a fucking ass? Does he hate women or something? Because of how he is with me and others, it makes me feel he despises women."

Isabelle and her friends all laughed.

"Callum? He doesn't hate women. In fact, he loves women," Amanda revealed. "I know it doesn't show at the office because he likes showing who's in charge. But the man loves pussy so much he has difficulty staying away from women. His problem is that he refuses to get involved in any commitment to them. So it's a one-and-done situation with him."

"Why? I mean, I know I refuse to get involved in another relationship after my ex and I broke things off a couple of years ago, but I have my reasons why that is. So what's Callum's reasoning? Does he just enjoy womanizing women? Isn't he afraid of catching anything?"

Isabelle looked at her other friends, and then she looked at me. "We don't know the whole story about what occurred. But he hasn't been the same since he lost his girlfriend in high school."

"Lost?"

"All we know is that he "lost" his girlfriend. We don't know if she died, broke up with him, or cheated; we don't know anything because our other halves refuse to tell us. All we know is that she was the love of his life, that they had been dating since middle school, and that something happened at the beginning of their senior year. Since then, he wines and dines them, gets them in bed, and then finds another woman to satisfy. But he's careful. He studies the woman; his eyes catch long and hard before he makes his move. He has a knack for figuring out if they're looking for a relationship or only looking for one night of passion."

Interesting...

He's a one-night-stand type of guy. So I'll bet that my email telling him I was on my way to get fucked by a hot CEO I had just met probably made his night—and why he didn't fire me thinking I was just like him. And he was probably happily chanting that night. Atta girl!

We hit three nightclubs in downtown Chicago to get all our drinking in before making our final stop of the night at The Night Lovers Club. Since the club has a three-drink limit and makes you blow into an intoxilyzer to make sure you're of sound mind before entering a room—if you're having sex, of course, which we're obviously not. But I wanted to make sure before we made asses of ourselves on the stripper pole, we had enough drinks in our bodies to be braver. Who knows? The alcohol may have helped us relax where; we'll be even sexier on the pole.

Before heading into the club, we changed from our nightclub dresses into our sex club attire and put on the masquerade masks we had made before leaving the party bus. And I couldn't stop laughing at Isabelle's wardrobe. On top of wearing a wedding masquerade mask, she found a role-play sexy wedding dress that exposed everything—tits, pussy, and ass. Leaving nothing to the imagination. It was see-through, so she covered her tits with stars and wore a mini lacy tulle skirt covering pretty much nothing—just enough where she didn't feel she was exposing more than she should be, drawing more attention to that she wished to. Isabelle also wanted to continue wearing her bride-to-be ribbon, thinking it would help her score more alcoholic beverages than they allowed.

And because someone insisted on calling me a nun, I bought a sexy role-play nun costume. And it's very revealing—so much so that I know if Callum was here and saw me walking around the club, seeing what I was wearing, it would be enough for him to confront me finally. And I hope he does. Because if he threatens to fire me again for being at a club, he's a member of, he'll regret it.

"So where's the pole dancing at?" Amanda asked.

"Third floor," Lilah excitedly responded. "Did you want to do that first? Or should we work our way up there?"

Even though we're wearing masquerade masks, I want to draw attention to myself—in case mister crabby bosshole is here. Of course, he may not know I'm here because a mask will hide my face. But he's seen enough of my body from his new camera system to figure out who I am—if he even paid attention to any of my skin flaws. He once called me an annoying grimalkin, so I made a grey-colored lacy mask with gems resembling a cat. And now I want to do everything possible to irk him and to get him out of hiding. "Before we head to the third floor, I want to dance... inside one of those cages," I said, pointing to the available cages.

The girls clapped excitedly, and when Isabelle insisted I show off my moves for everyone to see, Lilah grabbed my hand and practically ripped off my arm when she pulled me through the crowd. "She would like to show everyone her sexy moves in that cage," she told one of the guards, watching the cages.

He nodded. "Follow me."

My heart started racing when the guard began walking me to the available cage, but when I reminded myself that I was wearing a mask and nobody would know who I was except who I was at the club with, my heart returned to beating normally. He lowered the cage, and after helping me inside, I grabbed hold of the bar when he began raising it back into the air.

Since Isabelle wore the wedding dress outfit and mask, I could immediately spot my group. And after finding them, I closed my eyes, let my mind go free, and began dancing provocatively. I slowly swayed my hips while moving up and down and rubbed my pussy and breasts. I don't know how long I was in the air dancing, but when I felt the cage lowering, my eyes quickly opened, and I whimpered—it didn't seem I was up there long enough to draw attention to myself or to get my dickhead boss time to find me.

"That's all the time we get to dance inside the cage? What's up with that?" I hissed to the guard when he unlocked and opened the door for me.

"Sorry, miss. But I was told to get you down."

Callum's here...

Even though I had an idea who ordered the guard to lower me from the air, my hot-tempered ass instantly grew angry, and I snapped, "Oh yeah? By who?"

With no pity on his face and a straight face, he said, "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just following orders from management to get you down."

Yeah, whatever. I'll bet any man inside this building a night with me that Callum ordered me out of the cage. That's fine. I knew he'd have a fit if he figured out it was me inside there. But I also didn't think he'd have that much pull to do such orders.

Money... he probably paid them a ridiculous amount to listen to him.

Asshole.

That's fine. Two can play this game.

"What happened? You were only up there for like three minutes. Did you not like it up there? Because you looked like you were having a blast, and you looked so fucking sexy dancing how you were!" Isabelle said, surprised. "I wish I could move like that!"

"He told me he was ordered to get me out of the cage by management. But I don't think it was management. It was my fucking coward of a boss Callum. He's here. I just know it! And now that he got my blood flowing rapidly through my veins, he will soon learn just how pissed off he made me."

She laughed. "What are you going to do now?"

"Taunt him." I grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's go up to the third floor, get some drinks, do a shot, then hit the stripper pole." I grabbed Lilah's hand, demanding, "Lead us to where we need to be."

While Lilah pulled us through the crowd, my eyes were on full alert—looking for him. A tall, dark-haired, muscular man. And one who dressed like his shit didn't stink—like an arrogant, self-important, pompous asshole millionaire. But nobody matched who I was looking for.

That motherfucker sure likes to hide.

His hide-and-seek games are about to end. And I have a strong feeling the second I get on that pole, he will emerge from the shadows. Angry. Hot. Full of testosterone. And showing he's full of so much bullshit that I can't wait to laugh in his face.

"We need seven blowjob shots, please," I ordered the handsome bartender. "And make sure the bride-to-be's shot has extra whipped cream. Please and thank you!"

He chuckled. "You got it. But first, I'll need your drink cards to mark them off."

First, he lined up the shot glasses in front of us. Next, he poured in the Kahlua, and then he held a spoon over the glass and began pouring Irish Cream on top of the Kahlua, layering the shot perfectly. Last, he topped it off with the whipped cream and did as I asked—he gave Isabelle a heaping amount of whipped cream. Then he teased, "You girls know how to do these shots, right?"

All of us, in unison, shouted, "Of course we do!" Then we laughed as we brought our hands behind our backs and clasped them together.

Isabelle stood beside me. I looked at her and grinned. "Ready?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you can get your mouth over that massive pile of cream?"

"I've got a big mouth. Just ask Rory. He tells me that all the time," she said, laughing.

The bartender stood before us, smiling at us like he was in heaven with what we were about to do. And then he started counting down the seconds, "Three... two... one... drink!"

Isabelle must have known she had remnants of whipped cream around her mouth because she gave me a mischievous look. And I knew what that look meant. She wants her and me to fuck with the bartender—sexual teasing—something we've done since we first started drinking legally to taunt and tease the surrounding men.

I extended my finger to the extra cream around her lips and slowly swiped it off. Then I brought it to my mouth, licked part of it off, then shoved the rest of it into her mouth, Isabelle sucking the cream off my finger as if she were cleaning cum off a dick. When she was done, I stuck my finger back in my mouth and repeated Isabelle's act.

"Hot. So fucking hot," the bartender cheered, then encouraged, "maybe you should lick the stickiness off around her mouth too. Now that would be even more fucking hot."

Isabelle and I both looked at each other and laughed. We've never gone that far. She didn't say it, but I saw it in her eyes. She wanted me to. I bit my bottom lip, wondering if I should and thinking it would be funny if I did—to see if it would make the bartender's dick hard.

When the girls egged us on, I thought about Callum being somewhere nearby and what he would do. Since I knew we wouldn't be kissing and figured licking her skin would be harmless, I shrugged, leaned forward, opened my mouth, and extended my tongue—giving everyone around us a show, including giving the young bartender a hard-on.

The girls howled, whistled, and clapped. And so did some of the surrounding guys.

Isabelle dragged us over to the pole, where we stood in line. And when an employee came over asking what song we'd like to dance to while on the pole, we all wrote down our song choices.

My song choice? Lady Marmalade.

And I chose that song because, for some strange reason, I feel like Callum thinks I'm his girl. Please don't ask me why, because I don't know. It's the only logical explanation I can come up with. He installed cameras with audio that he could access at any time on his phone or laptop. He didn't want me hanging out at the sex club and threatened to fire me over it if I did. He gives me so much work that it leaves me with zero time to go out. And because the cage incident makes me believe he has a thing for me.

We've never met, and it's pretty apparent to everyone who knows and works with me that we despise each other. He also doesn't do relationships. So I don't understand why he feels he can control what I do? He's not my lover. He's just my boss with a fucking attitude.

When Shelby got up on the pole, the first thing she did when she wrapped her leg around the pole and started spinning was she fell on her head, causing laughter around us. I'm sure it wasn't the first time it happened tonight, but it was pretty fucking funny, if you ask me.

Amanda was next, and she did all right. She drew a crowd, at least. And then Isabelle went, and if Rory were here, I'll bet anything he'd drag her into a room and fuck her silly. She looked hot and did it like she's been practicing. Then Lilah went, and well, after learning her secret life, her performance didn't surprise me. She drew an even bigger crowd and did it beautifully, like a pro. Tallulah lasted all about a minute—she freaked out and got off. Carina, Isabelle's cousin, went next, and she gave us a laugh, as well. She, too, slid down the pole while spinning around and landed flat on her face.

"Let's see how you can do it!" Isabelle said, shoving me to the pole. "I'll bet you'll be just like your sister—perfect." She kissed my cheek and then pushed me forward. "Do us proud, girlfriend!"

I laughed at that. I don't think I'll be anything like Lilah, but today, instead of working, I watched how to use the stripper pole most of the morning at work. So, if I can remember everything the YouTube videos taught me, I should be fine, right?

When Lady Marmalade blasted through the speakers, my arms extended up; I wrapped my hands around the pole, then used my muscles to lift and start spinning around the pole, my legs curling around it. Then I prayed not to fall on my head when I spun upside down, my legs spreading like an eagle as I twirled around.

"Go, Eloise, go! You're doing awesome!" Lilah shouted over the music.

But just when she yelled that, instead of me twirling around a pole, I was in the air, moving away from the pole, hanging over someone's shoulder.

"What the fuck! Put me down!" I screamed!

The person carrying me said nothing. He just continued marching us away from my party. I started smacking the person taking me, and that still didn't stop the asshole from walking or stopping to set me down.

"You know, just because you have a dick doesn't mean you have to act like one! Put me down! Right fucking now before I get security!"

He chuckled lowly.

"I'd punch you, but then that would be animal abuse. Put me the fuck down!"

"I told you, Eloise. I don't play nice, and now you're in trouble for disobedience."

I knew it. I knew he'd show up! And now I can't wait for the arguing to begin.

But that voice? It sounds so familiar...

"It's you! The motherfucker who claims he's my boss but is too coward to confront me. So, here's an idea. Instead of trying to play with me, why don't you go play in traffic?"

Finally, he stopped and lowered me to the ground. But where it was dark as fuck, with little lighting. Just enough to see shadows, and that's all I see standing in front of me, a fucking shadow.

"You don't own me, Callum. I'm your assistant. With that said, you can't tell me I can't be here." I repeatedly poked his chest, hissing, "And you can't order me down the from cage if I wish to dance. Or steal me from my friends while trying to pole dance. Are you fucking nuts?"

My breathing hitched when he pressed me up against the wall, and he lowered his mouth to my ear, sending jolts of electricity I didn't wish to feel from him course through my body. "When I said you're not to come here, I meant it. This is no place for you to be."

Goosebumps prickled my skin from head to toe. Why is my body reacting to him? My body is telling me it wants him. My pussy is telling me it's craving for him. And my mind I'd like to beat the fuck out of—that isn't listening to me either. My mind is saying I want him too, and that's far from what I want.

I hate this man with a passion. But as he presses his body against mine, I can feel his passion in his pants, and he's hard as fuck.

What the fuck? I hate him!

I swallowed hard. Who does this guy think he is? "As I said, you're not the boss of me outside of business hours," I whispered. Mentally telling my mind, body, and pussy to knock their shit off. I want nothing to do with him.

I repeat. I want nothing to do with Callum Harrison.

So why is my heart racing? And why is my pussy drooling from his lips, sliding softly from my ear to mouth? "That's where you're wrong, Eloise. You're mine, and you're mine to control."

Now he really pissed me off. I'm his? The fuck I am! He doesn't own me...

I shouted, "Fuck you! I'm not yours! I'm nobody's—" and was cut off from saying anything more when his mouth landed fiercely on mine.

My motherfucking asshole boss is kissing me.

He's kissing me, and I'm returning the kiss! Am I drunk and imagining all of this? Because we hate each other, and he wants me fired more than anything!

I must have landed on my head while trying to pole dance, and I'm knocked the fuck out. Because there is no way Callum and I are kissing right now. No flipping way!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! 🤞🤞