Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? Read Online Free Page B

sash stand for?” asked Andy.
    â€œPriestess,” said Evelyn. “She’s passed all the levels of goddess training and is qualified to lead her own workshops. Loubelle and I go to the Initiates, since we’re second-year returnees. We’re aqua. And Jeannie—”
    â€œGets to wear royal blue. A Handmaiden at last,” said Jeannie, giving a little shiver of pleasure. “That’s your line over there. The Novices.” She pointed to the longest line where women were receiving light blue sashes. “But before you go, just let me give you a little get-go. A pretty girl like you doesn’t need to hide her assets. After you get your sash, you just go on into the ladies’ and change out of that shirt. Like my mamma always said, ‘A big smile and a little flesh will get you everywhere.’” She winked what had to be false eyelashes at Andy. “We’ll save you a place at dinner.”
    Andy took her place at the back of the line of Novices and slowly made her way to the front. The name of Dr. Bliss rose from every conversation and floated around the room like an effervescence. Everyone seemed fascinated by the TV guru. She hadn’t been at the Welcoming Ceremony, and Andy was curious to see her.
    When she reached the head of the line, another purple-sashed priestess gave her a stick-on name tag and a light blue satin sash.
    She followed the others into the auditorium and saw Evelyn, Loubelle, and Jeannie sitting near the stage with the other higher ranking goddesses. She found a seat in one of the rows of folding chairs at the back of the room, reserved for the Novices. Peeking over the top of her glasses, she began a systematic search of each row, looking for a tall, auburn-haired, middle-aged stuntwoman—just in case—and came up blank.
    She did find Dillon Cross, standing in the line of men on risers at the back of the stage behind a long table that presumably would seat the staff of the retreat. The men were bare-chested and dressed in short white kilts. They were all handsome and fit, though some looked self-conscious and some looked ridiculous.
    Unfortunately, Dillon looked good enough to make her forget her reason for being here. He was also perusing the rows of seats, a slight frown on his face, and she took the opportunity to get a good look.
    He was tanned and buff, sleek more than built—like a panther, Jeannie had said. There was something predatory about him. A natural grace that was only slightly disturbed by the hitch in his walk. He had long legs and a developed chest that tapered to a narrow waist. A gold braided belt was fixed several inches below his navel.
    Andy gave herself a buzz, just imagining what was under that little pleated skirt.
    Suddenly he looked right at her. Something zinged in the air between them. He smiled, then shook his head and grinned. Andy shoved on her glasses, chastising herself for being caught ogling her attendant. The world became a blur again.
    Conversation abruptly ceased as several priestesses, all dressed in flowing white robes and purple sashes, entered from a side door and took their places at the table on the stage.
    Katherine Dane came next and stopped at the podium at the center of the long table. She was wearing an off-white silk pantsuit and no sash, just a purple jeweled pin fastened to her lapel. Two men followed her onto the stage.
    The first man, a giant blond with powerful muscles swathed in undulating white pajamas, walked to the far end of the table and sat down. The second man was much shorter, slight, with dark shiny hair that receded from a high forehead. He was dressed incongruously in a pinstriped suit. The overhead lights picked out a sheen of perspiration on his forehead as he sat down.
    Ms. Dane signaled for quiet. The rustle of conversation gradually subsided, and the house lights dimmed until only the stage was left in light. She nodded to the audience, welcomed them again, read