60

Eros

I sit in the back of the car with Eros, the divider between us and the driver firmly in place. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" I ask him as we glide through downtown.

"A very good idea," he says, his hand on my thigh. I'm in a dark blue dress with a slit up my thigh and a low-cut front, and he keeps peeking at my tits and my leg. It sends a thrill into my guts, the way he looks at me in this revealing dress, so totally not my style, but he seems to love it. Which is good enough for me.

"It's just, you keep talking about how dangerous it's been in the city and how I shouldn't go to the diner—"

"Trust me." His fingers dig into my thigh and there's a smile on his lips. "The Italians are too busy to bother with us tonight."

He takes me to an upscale Asian fusion restaurant. We're seated right away by a pretty girl in all black at a good table right in the middle of the vast, open space. The music is loud, and every table is packed, but Eros looks at me like there's nobody else in