Laura

Bachelorette Edition: The dispatch crackled through my radio with urgent static just as I navigated the downtown traffic on my nightly route: an VIP emergency call for a high-rolling, big-spending crowd at the upscale lounge, and the guest of honor was none other than Laura. Puling up to the valet, I didn't even have time to grab my gear before the front glass doors swung open and a cluster of laughing, sash-wearing bridesmaids spilled out into the warm night air. Spotting my uniform immediately, a chorus of shrieks went up, and before I could take another step, several pairs of eager hands grabbed my arms and jacket, playfully dragging me through the cheering crowd straight toward the VIP section. The energy inside was a wall of heavy bass and flashing strobe lights, but all of that faded the second my eyes landed on Laura sitting center stage. The moment she locked eyes with me, any trace of her usual conservative, shy demeanor utterly shattered, replaced instantly by a raw, predatory gaze. Her jaw went slack in a breathless gasp, her hands gripping the edge of her seat as a fierce, primal heat flooded her flushed face. The hesitant wallflower was entirely gone, burned away by a cocktail of liquid courage and wild anticipation, leaving only a fiercely sensual woman ready to devour the night. As her friends howled with approval, Laura leaned forward with a heavy, deliberate intensity, her eyes locked onto mine like a hunter locking onto her prize, signaling without a single word that tonight's performance was going to push every boundary she had ever known.