“How about that one?” I whispered, nodding toward a sharply-dressed man in a blue silk blazer.
“He looks like a lawyer,” Mia hissed. “I’ve had my fill of lawyer. Now the blond, there, by the hydrant? He’s more my speed.” Her target was a musclebound man in a black leather vest, jeans, and a mane of black hair which cascaded over his shoulders. His biceps bulged, and were ringed with tattoos of chains. My stomach turned.
“He’s a bad boy. Haven’t you had enough of them? This is a new beginning, Mia. Why not aim a little higher?” She blinked, thought, and nodded.
A knot of men walked up. “Eyes on three o’clock,” said the lead, a scrumptious-looking African-American with a pencil-thin mustache. As one, they all turned to face me, and my insides melted as they undressed me with their eyes. I
