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178 | FRANC E SCA PE NN

            I sing it with the girls and dance in my seat, because, let’s face it, he wants the
        attention. I’m not giving him any. We are standing and dancing by the time the
        song ends while Henri and the other men watch. The beat is amazing in a club
        setting. Teo storms out again.

            I follow Tala and Carla to the private bar for refills.
            “How do you do it?” Tala whispers. Carla nods and leans in. “Do what?”
            “How do you keep Henry looking at you like that?” I peek at Henri, and his
        eyes make at least seven different dirty promises.
            Lack of attention and sexual frustration.  I’m  heated  by his looks and the

        electricity from his glare.
            “Oh! Well, switch it up. Try new things. Both of your goals tonight are to have
        your husbands so aroused they cannot wait to go home. Okay, ladies?”
            “Is that your goal?” Carla asks.
            “Not only is it my goal, I plan on being practically dragged out of here within
        the hour.” They laugh, then sigh. “Your husbands may have different triggers.
        Maybe whisper dirty things to him or give him a shot? I’m confident you know
        what turns him on.”

            “I’m going over there right now and whisper something dirty in his ear,” Tala
        confesses. “I don’t ever talk dirty.”
            I moan at a memory. “Oh, the stuff Henri says.” They both look like believers.
        “You have to say it with confidence.”
            “I’ll work it out. We will  probably  stay close to you two. You and Henri
        bounce off so much sexual tension that it spills over to others.”
            I nod. “Voyeuristic. I like it.”

            We watch as Tala slides up to her husband and whispers in his ear. His eyes
        grow big before simmering with passion. We give her discreet nods. I return to
        Henri with another shot.
            I sit in his lap with my legs dangling over the side of the couch. “Last shot,” I
        warn.
            His long fingers wrap around the glass. I’m stuck for a moment wrapped up in
        the memory of what those fingers can do. We clink our glasses and take the shot.
        There is a stubborn drop lingering on Henri’s lip. I wipe it the most efficient way
        possible. With my tongue.
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