“Want to earn more?” His eyes flare with challenge. I can do this. I can endure his weird-ass fantasies because he pays well. “Yes,” I tell him with false bravado. “Then wrap those lips around your breadstick. Lick it and suck it. Like you wish it were my dick.” He nods at the bread on my plate. “Five hundred dollars.” God, he is so freaking bizarre.
Confessions of a Bibliophile 