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night.
     
    “Good evening, sir,” the maitre d' announced. I smiled and escorted Rachael as we followed him to our table. I pulled the chair out for Rachael and winked. Her face lit up as she took her seat. The maitre d' bowed and left us.
     
    “Where is everyone?” Rachael whispered across the table.
     
    I unwrapped my white napkin, set the silverware down, and placed it across my lap. “They're closed.” Rachael looked confused so I elaborated. “We helped the owner out a while back with some fuckers that kept breaking their front window.”
     
    She nodded with her mouth open. I didn't want to tell her too much—we killed the three guys and buried them out in the middle of the desert. Those details could be left secret.
     
    The waiter arrived wearing a black and white outfit with a bow-tie. He handed us two long menus. “The chef is prepared to cook anything you desire.”
     
    I left my menu closed on the table as I stared at Rachael. Her eyes were big as she scanned all the items. Most of the menu was in Italian and she tried to mouth the difficult words. “Anything look good?” I asked.
     
    She looked back at me with a look of terror. “Well, I'm having a hard time figuring out what they serve here.”
     
    I laughed and snatched the menu from her. “Do you like chicken?”
     
    Rachael nodded and blushed. What I wouldn't do to make her blush like that all night.
     
    I waved the waiter over and shot a wink to Rachael. “We'll both be getting the Chicken Vesuvio tonight.”
     
    “Excellent choice, sir. Anything to drink?”
     
    I'd kill to have a pint of beer but this place wasn't the type. “Surprise me with a nice bottle of red.”
     
    “Of course.” The waiter bowed and left us.
     
    “What's Vesuvio?” Rachael asked.
     
    “It's a meat cooked in white wine served with potatoes and peas.”
     
    “Sounds delicious. I don't think I've had a really authentic dish from Italy.”
     
    I chuckled. “You'll have to try something else because this meal originated in Chicago.”
     
    Rachael looked fascinated. “How do you know all this stuff? Are you Italian?”
     
    “No, actually my parents are Scottish and Irish. I've just eaten here so much that I've picked up on a few things.”
     
    Rachael fiddled around with the silverware on the table when the waiter came over. He placed two wine glasses in front of us and popped the cork. I stared into Rachael's eyes as she watched with wonder as the waiter expertly poured the wine.
     
    I took a sip of wine and let the alcohol calm my nerves. Why was my body reacting this way to Rachael? She was just another chick. Just another girl to bed and forget. But I'd never taken a girl on a “date” before. I didn't want to tell her that this was another first for me. “I want to know more about you, Rachael. What made you want to dance?”
     
    Rachael avoided eye contact. I probably shouldn't have brought up the subject. She was obviously ashamed of it. She opened up anyways. “My parents didn't help me with college so I needed a way to find money. I was working two jobs and trying to make ends meet. When I didn't have enough to pay for my books, I got desperate. I started stripping and the money came flowing in. I quit my two jobs and now I actually have time to study. And I can pay for books.”
     
    “You got to do whatever it takes,” I added.
     
    Rachael smirked and I felt something graze my leg. She drank her wine as her foot ran up my ankle. Jolts of electricity zapped through my system. My pants tightened. I looked around the restaurant for a place to bend her over so I could fuck her fast and hard. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pressing need in my pants.

Chapter Eight
     
Rachael

What was I doing?
     
    It must have been the tasty wine that was giving me so much confidence. All of the sudden, I found my foot running up and down Ace's leg. My heart beat faster and my cheeks flushed scarlet. I wanted this man completely. But did