Walking into the picturesque Euphoria Hotel, Tasha was still seething. It was bad enough that her finance douche of a soon-to-be-ex husband was in bed with that skinny yoga slut, but he had the nerve to call her boring in bed just because she wasn’t bowled over by the same moves over and over again. Tasha knew those bitches faked their orgasms with him, thinking of what he could buy them during missionary.
Tasha barely heard the receptionist while she stewed. She wasn’t boring and knew when she’d find men willing to worship and please her voluptuous body, she’d get wild. Sensing her distraction and edge, the receptionist said, “let’s just get you to your room so you can start your vacation.”
She entered her room, with Chris the receptionist following behind with her bag. Tension rose inside her. Could she actually do this? Was that bastard right about her? Tasha knew about the hotel’s rules, but hearing the moans echoing through the hallway as they walked gave her pause. Was she genuinely ready to do this?