Model Fantasy Read Free

tension in her muscles, she curled up on the bed and picked up the phone.
    “Felicity?” she whispered. “I…”
    The sobs came as she poured out everything to her older sister.
    “Francine, you remember what I told you after Eddie?”
    “Yes,” hiccupped Francine.
    “Well, this case calls for something more drastic.”
    “Like what?”
    “Several stiff drinks. Now, I want you to go down to the bar, tell the bartender you want four or five drinks and then he is to have someone make sure you get back to your room safely.”
    “Felicity, I can’t do that! I don’t…”
    “I know, sweetie, but this occasion demands it. You’ll be fine. I know it hurts like hell right now, and I wish I was there...” she growled. “Hell, I wish I had that bastard alone for five minutes to teach him some manners. Doing that to my baby sister... Asshole!”
    “I wish you were here, too.” Francine sighed. “Why can’t I find someone like Tom? You sure he doesn’t have a long-lost brother somewhere?”
    “You don’t need Mr. Right, sweetie. Right now, you need Mr. Stud to burn up the sheets and blow your mind.”
    “But Kevin said…”
    “No! That man is a waste of oxygen, understand me?” Felicity exhaled in a whoosh. “Go down to the bar, get your drinks and when you get back in your room, dream of an incredibly hot guy who makes your every fantasy come true.”
    “Okay,” sniffed Francine.
    She would take Felicity’s advice. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to feel. She just wanted… Well, she didn’t know what she wanted, but she knew who she didn’t want. Splashing water on her face, she repaired her make-up and smiled at her reflection. She knew she didn’t want anyone like Kevin. Her fantasy man would be absolutely incredible in every way—attractive, physically strong, accomplished in life, smart, and the most fantastic lover a woman could imagine. He would sweep her off her feet and make sure she was sexually satisfied.
    Dressed simply in trousers and a light silk blouse, Francine headed down to the hotel’s only open bar. Off the lobby, the dark-paneled room had booths around the walls and tables placed far enough apart that an inebriated patron wouldn’t have too much trouble walking through them. The widescreen TV at the end of the bar showed commentators discussing the first half of the basketball game. Sitting on a stool near the middle, she reminded herself of Felicity’s directives as the black-vested bartender came toward her. The man didn’t seem surprised at her requests and put a tall frosted glass in front of her. Idly, she sipped it while watching the Knicks’ game.
    A couple drinks later, as she debated ordering from the appetizer menu, two men in exquisitely cut suits came in, black cashmere coats over their arms. One held a cell phone to his ear. They came toward where she sat. Great. The last thing she wanted to deal with was men. Even if they were incredibly good-looking.
    They took the stools a few feet away from her. In front of the bartender. She smiled to herself and took a large swallow. Could she be more caught up in herself? The bartender was there, so of course they would go there. Focus on what Felicity told you to do, she reminded herself, staring at the neon pink parasol in her drink. That’s what you’re doing here.
    “Mr. Franklin,” the bartender greeted with a smile. “Mr. Hancock. What can I get you tonight?”
    Francine kept them in her peripheral vision as their whiskey was put in front of them. Sex fantasies, Felicity had said. She didn’t even know where to start on that one. She picked up the straw and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.
    “Fantasies,” she whispered, tapping the straw against the rim of the glass. “What kind of fantasies? What would I like?”
    “Problem?”
    She looked over and saw that the man called Franklin was still on his cell phone. Hancock, with dark eyes and dark hair cut short, was studying