Game on. Another lamb for the feast. Not likely. Jezebel knows that taking a bite out of the virgin bait the demon slayers have tossed into the club is a bad idea. But there’s also more than one way to skin a proverbial cat, or in this instance, pop a slayer’s cherry before she causes any problems. There’s nothing in the succubus rule book that says Jezebel has to play fair. After all, she need only suggest. What the slayer does with the nudge is up to her. Check mate.
She adjusted her top again, strode up to the door, and tugged it open, only to walk head on into a tall drink of bouncer. She tipped her head back and gasped. Wow, evil sure looked good these days. No wonder they did so well in there.
“ID,” he said, giving her a thorough head-to-toe appraisal.
Cass handed him her driver’s license. “I’m not here to drink. I’m looking for a job.” She gave him a crooked smile, certain she looked more like an escaped mental patient than a woman trying to flirt her way into working in the place.
He glanced down at her ID. “Cassidy, not much of a stage name. The boss privately interviews all the dancers. He won’t be in for another hour.”
“Oh, I don’t want to strip—exotic dance. I’m not that kind of girl.”
The bouncer stared at her with eyes that made her want to take her clothes off and be that kind of girl. Her body began to buzz under his gaze. A toothpick in his mouth twitched, the only indication he wasn’t a statue.
“I want to tend bar,” she stuttered. “I make a mean Screaming Orgasm. I’m really good at it—making drinks that is.”
He eyed her double Ds and a smile curled one side of his mouth. “I’ll bet you are.”