Maneater

Every Maneater had a Man-muncher, or Maneater in training. Mine was a younger girl I had taken under my wing, teaching her the way of maneating. Her name was Soulji Ahn and she’d hardly been in the country for a good year now. When I found her, slumped along an alley way outside an A-list club, it was the equivalent of finding a lost puppy. Her hair was matted, her face covered in dirt, and her clothes tattered. To say the least, I knew she needed my help.

The fact she decided to follow in my footsteps, after seeing my luxurious home and even more so luxurious closet, didn’t surprise me. Every designer handbag, every designer dress, every designer anything in my closest was a trophy of great victory.

“Heidi, two o’clock.” she informs me, hardly looking up from her iPhone.

I causally turn my head and take in the tall man giving me the ‘look’. In the first chapter of the Maneater Guidebook, it explained that the ‘look’ was an invite to everything. Sex, money, power. How you returned the ‘look’ determined that size of your trophy.

By tossing my hair over my shoulder, I made it clear I was a challenge. He exchanges a few words with his friends before he stands up and approaches Soulji and I.

“Cioa bella.” he purrs, horribly fake Italian accent.

I discreetly roll my eyes, as if an accent could win me over. It’d take more than a few of the most popular worlds of such a generic language to win me over. Turning to face him, I look at him from under my mascara heavy lashes.

I fake a giggle, “Hello.”

He smiles, a charming feature. Surely not as charming as the glistening of his Baume & Mercier watch. He had the cash.

“Allow me to order you a drink.” he winks, tapping the bar counter.

It takes a few seconds, seconds filled with him mentally undressing me, before a bartender arrives. Holding up two fingers, he orders the both of us martinis. I could remember the first time a man had ordered me a drink, I nearly lost him when I cringed. I wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination a martini girl. I was a straight shot of vodka and a chaser kind of girl. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you.” I smile, bringing the drink to my lips.

He watches my lips, leaning against the bar in a casual manner, “What’s your name?”

I pull the glass away, licking the bitter liquid from my upper lip, “It’s Heidi. Heidi Hughes.” I hold my hand out to his for a shake, knowing damn well he’d kiss my knuckles.

He does so, lingering a little longer than I was comfortable with. He better put out the goods if he continued to act like such a creep.

“Well Heidi,” he purrs and rests a hand on my exposed knee, “I’d like to show you the stars tonight.”

I quirk a brow, he was surely getting to the point. I’d suck him dry before he even knew his cash was gone.

“Oh, and who will be showing me stars tonight?” I bat my lashes, leaning closer to him and resting a hand on his forearm.

His green eyes fall to my chest, watching it rise and fall as I wait for an answer.

“I-it’s Cook Jones.”

I had to give it to him, no man had ever given me such a fake name.

“And what is it you do Mr. Jones?” I take a second sip of my drink.

“I sell real estate to celebrities all over Beverly Hills.” he straightens up, smirking pridefully.

He had the reputation I could destroy. This coupled with the money he was obviously willing to spend, I could suck him dry within the next month.

“Exciting.” I confirm, moving my hand an inch up his arm.

He nods, “Would you like to take a grand tour of the most expensive home in all over California?”

I almost scoff at him. There was no way he was currently selling the ‘most expensive home’ in California. That house was currently owned by someone else.

“Does it have a good view of the stars?” I ask in a whisper.

“Oh baby, you have no idea.” he winks.

“Than what are we waiting for?” I smirk, “Let’s go.”

He practically jumps from his seat, nearly knocking his martini on my Camilla and Marc dress. He panics and spills it over the bar instead, turning red in embarrassment. I snatch his hand as he rushes to clean the mess up with the tiny bar napkins meant for handing out ones phone number.

“I’ll see you later, Souls.” I fake giggle, sending her the code for ‘I’d be home tonight’.

I’d be damned if I woke up next to this man in the morning. The idea of fucking him was less than appealing. I remind myself of the money and he suddenly turns into my prince charming. He looks up to me, finally noticing my taller than life heels. I smirk when he looks down at the tall heel of my shoe, they all reacted the same way. My natural 5’5” height required some sort of boost.

“Come on, Cook,” I lean into him and purr. “The stars don’t stay out all night.”

That has his rushing for the exit, past his friends in a hurry- but with enough time to throw them a bragging look. We step from the club into the night air, where he gets into a convertible Maserati Granturismo. I inspect the car before getting in, I couldn’t tell you how many men had the nerve to rent a new car. It lowered them from a decent fuck to a half done hand job.

The car purrs, roaring every time he’d accelerate across an intersection. I know he’s watching me so I fake a good time, like the orgasm I’d be faking tonight. He places a hand on my knee again and at every stop light, he’d creep it higher up my thigh.

I gasp, “Cook!” I slap his hand away playfully.

“I got you, Baby.” he winks, placing it even higher up my thigh.

Oh great, I think, the pet names have started before we even make it to his place.

“I hope you do.” I quirk a brow suggestively.

His foot suddenly becomes heavy as lead, never once leaving the gas pedal as he races home. He hardly slows as we turn down suburban streets, rolling with the hills. The drive way we pull into is long and goes uphill in a steep fashion. He parks out front the grand home, cutting the engine and turning to face me. This is when our lips meet, a tangled mess of him trying to force his slimy tongue into my mouth.

I pull away, breathing heavily from the surprise attack. He smirks, thinking his kisses were breath taking.

“Come on, Baby.” he squeezes my thigh, “I need you now.”

I cringe inwardly, was that supposed to get me hot or turn me off? It certainly did the latter.

“I’m waiting for you to open the door.” I hint, smirking.

His eyes go wide and he quickly gets to work opening the door. The mansion door that is. I watch him, my jaw dropped. He was thicker than I was used to. It would surely be a long night.