Out of Her Comfort Zone Read Online Free PDF Page A

five dozen men here, two-thirds the number Elliot said he had invited. They come and go during the night, so to speak, he’d said.
    The women formed into a tight circle. At the leader’s signal, faced out and struck a pose. A couple catcalls, a couple of whistles, while most of the men grinned and soaked them in. And then went back to their drinks.
    “That’s it?” Emily whispered to the woman next to her.
    “Don’t sag. They have to pretend not to care. Mas macho.” She winked, and on the signal Emily took another pose, so forward she nearly overbalanced herself. This act was hard.
    After voguing for the length of an interminable techno tune, somehow raising the temperature in the room about ten degrees, they broke the circle. As Emily stepped forward, she felt a hand at her waist.
    “Where’d you find those breasts?”
    Elliot was unmasked, of course, as he was the host. Emily almost sagged into him with relief, but at the last minute remembered her role. “Madame Z’s.”
    “She told you to smoke, too?”
    “To change my voice.”
    “My own little Lauren Bacall. And you’re even taller than me.” His hand slipped over her hip, finger flicking the edge of the silkiest thong Emily had ever worn. Her racing heart skipped. “Want a drink?” he said.
    “You know it.”
    Hand on her ass, he guided her past the short line and right up to the bar. “Stoli, and a creamsicle for my honey.”
    “Creamsicle?”
    “Vodka with orange and coconut juice.” He handed it to her. It had a straw. She pursed her lips, so thick with blood-red lipstick she could feel it, and took a sip, or rather, a suck. His breath hitched – and so did the man’s behind him. Elliot’s eyes narrowed and he turned. The other man quickly looked away. Emily tried not to smile, but her heart gave her away.
    Elliot threw back his drink. “Drink up,” he said roughly, but quickly reconsidered. “No, give me that.” He set his glass on the bar and took hers. Hand on her upper arm this time, he guided her away from the line and the men and the other women, closer to the wall. “We need some space.”
    The wall was all window, and by far Emily’s favorite part of the penthouse. Standing here she could see the pyramidal Transamerica building and lights of ships far out on the fog-striped bay.
    “Put your hands up.”
    “Going to arrest me?”
    “Only fair. You nearly put me into cardiac arrest when you strutted out here.”
    She pushed her palms into the glass, its cool surface shocking. She was so hot already she couldn’t see why there wasn’t a thunder-boomer between the glass and her palms. Elliot covered her left hand quickly, and slid the ruby ring off her finger. She’d forgotten. He slipped it into his pocket and then reached under her arm to bring the drink, the straw, to her lips.
    “More?” he purred. Emily pursed her lips again, pulling on the straw. The drink was sweeter than she cared for but Elliot’s reaction was all she could desire. He pushed his chest into her back; she felt the chamois of his shirt on her bared shoulder blades and the rumble of his low growl. She did it again, feeling quite the femme fatale, and was rewarded by a familiar bumping near her ass.
    “Happy to see me?” Her voice sounds like some other girl’s. Or rather, woman’s.
    “I wasn’t sure you’d go through with it. I’m so... glad... you did.”
    The drink was small, and soon enough she was sucking at the dregs. Leaning her head into his shoulder, she licked her upper lip, slow. There was no way this lipstick was coming off easy.
    In the reflection of the window Emily could see others watching, not staring but stealing looks. Smoldering looks. She must be doing this right.
    Elliot dropped the glass, which must be solid crystal because it didn’t shatter. Shaking his head as if waking from a dream, he looked up, into the window, and then over his shoulder. Everyone who had been watching quickly turned away.
    He cleared his throat,