Read Naomi & Bradley, Reality Shows... (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 3) for Free Online Page B

clap my hands, stomp my feet, and order everyone out?  I didn’t want to be alone.  I gave in and just shrug.  Viktor hugs me from behind, not so accidently brushing his palm over my breasts, and whispers in my ear, “You are my best friend baby.  I love living with you.”
    We all gather around my giant Toshiba TV with drinks in hand, and the show begins.
    “God, it’s Bradley!”  They are interviewing him right up front.  He looks so hot, his hair messed, his shirt all wrinkled and casual, his pants riding low on his hips.  I lick my lips and lean in.
    “What happened?  Where’d you go last night?”  A staffer shoots questions at Bradley as if he’s walking the red carpet at Cannes and I wonder how much he loves all the attention.  Too much? 
    Then the picture switches off of Bradley and into the ‘Confession Booth’ with that stripper skank preening in front of the camera.
    “Sure we messed around some.  We came in here away from the cameras for a hot and heavy make out session.  The poor guy’s been in lockdown for over a month and he was ready for a release if you know what I mean.”
    A staffer asks, “We thought Bradley was engaged.”
    She winks and a crust of dried mascara falls off her fake lashes and onto her cheek in a black clump.  I can’t help but smile.
    “My little Russian bear seems to have forgotten all about his old girlfriend, look at me?  You assume he could think of another woman with me riding his cock?”
    The station bleeps out the word ‘cock’ but everyone in the universe can lip-read that word.  An embarrassed cough comes from behind me and I turn around to see four surprised Slotzky faces staring back at me with pity in their eyes.
    I feel my eyes tearing up and my vision goes blurry.  I try to reason it away, they added her for ratings, it’s a setup.  Bradley wouldn’t do her, would he?  No, I have faith in him.  This isn’t happening again.  I stand and say, “It’s for ratings, dubbed in.  She’s talking a pack of lies.”
    “Sure baby, sure,” Viktor replies handing me another glass of vodka.  Then I hear Bradley’s voice and I turn around again.
    “It’s complicated, I got a girl at home, waiting for me to get back, but I just wanted a lap dance.”
    “What, did you get a boner from that stripper?”
    Bradley doesn’t answer, but they show his face up close and he winks and smiles.  What. The. Fuck?
    Another question comes his way.  “There’s been talk you’ve been complaining about this fiancée of yours to the guys, telling them about her behavior, the stick she has up her ass all the time.  I hear she’s a control freak, criticizes your every move, won’t let you smoke.  She sounds more like a jailor than a lover.  Is any of that true?”
    Another guy from the show, a Joel chimes in “She sounds like a bitch.  What other kind of fun is there here?”
    “You’re one to talk.”  Bradley says back and the guy walks off.  I can’t believe it.  I’m in shock.  Viktor comes over and wraps his beefy arms around my shoulders and I lean into him for comfort.
    Bradley’s talking again, but I miss some of it.  The hurt cuts deep.  They have film of Bradley ridiculing me?  Would he do that?  Could he tell them ‘I had a stick up my ass’ and still want to marry me?
    “I know what’s going on here; we all do.  I’m looking past the next two months into my future; it includes plenty of lap dances with cake on their tits.”
    The camera guys are smiling, almost drooling as they remember last night’s gyrations.  They whisper together.  One of them asks Bradley if he’s going into the confessional room again for another private quickie.
    Another shot of Bradley smiling.  The cameras follow Bradley into his bedroom, and he strips down bare-assed as the day he was born, and he blows a kiss to the camera, followed by a middle finger.
    The staffer comes back on chuckling, “Guess we got our answer, everyone knows