It was time for me to bring Selina out to play.
3
Mila
ALTHOUGH I’D TRAVELED around the world and stayed in hundreds of luxurious hotels since starting down this career path, the Fairmont Chateau Laurier remained my personal favorite. Originally built in 1912, the renovated old castle was like a beautiful museum with all the modern-day comforts of a five-star hotel.
Every time I stepped through the revolving doors, a ridiculous little part of me felt like a princess returning to her castle.
The Fairmont was a popular tourist attraction, and today the lobby was filled with senior citizens who oohed and aahed at the custom wood paneling and shiny marble floors. Ignoring the reception desk, I drifted into the group of blue-haired women and headed for the bank of elevators. Slipping past gilded doors and into the lift, I waited as a couple of suits joined me, casting curious glances at the short hem of my skirt and my sexy stockings.
“Tu veux de la compagnie?”one of the suits asked.
Did I want company? I already had plans and, judging by his off-the-rack suit, I doubted he could afford me. Politely declining his offer in French, I stepped aside so they could exit on the third floor before continuing my ascent solo.
Once the elevator deposited me onto the sixth floor, I found the room number and knocked twice. After waiting a beat, I knocked three more times before waiting and knocking once.
The door swung open to my code, and an Indian man in his early thirties wearing an immaculately tailored, designer suit greeted me with a smile. “Namaste, Selina. Come in.”
“Namaste, Rishi.”
His gaze roamed my body as I entered. In respect for his culture, I stepped out of my pumps and placed them neatly beside the door as I took in the suite. To the left was a classic living room area. Beyond the matching sofa and chair stood a mahogany desk tucked against a windowed alcove. A king-sized bed took up the space to the right of the desk. Beyond the bed was a door that no doubt led to the his-and-hers walk-in closets and a bathroom.
“Beautiful suite,” I said.
His smile widened. “You will be comfortable here.”
Yes, I would. I removed my bag and set it, and my weekend bag, on the chair by the door, already making myself at home.
I was officially on the clock, and it was time to get to work. Sliding my shawl seductively over the spaghetti straps of my dress, I watched Rishi beneath my lashes. My flirty reveal snagged his full attention, and his gaze followed the lines of my dress down to my cleavage. The amount of skin I showed was illegal in several countries and forbidden in his. Of course, if Rishi was looking for socially acceptable, he never would have reached out to me.
When we first met, I was fresh out of college facing a seemingly endless pile of debt I didn’t know how to pay, and he was a young businessman on his first unsupervised work trip outside of India. One of his associates—a client of Polly’s—had put him in touch with me. He was looking for an experience unlike anything he could find back home. I prepared for our first encounter by studying his native culture, hoping I wouldn’t somehow offend him. I expected a rich, entitled asshole who’d use me to get his rocks off, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Rishi was a sweet virgin who’d been sexually repressed by his culture and was desperate for the opportunity to finally fly his freak flag. That was years ago. This was our seventh session together, and he was still every bit the circumspect gentleman I’d first encountered.
“It’s good to see you. I love the dress.” His smile was wide and genuine. “Would you like a glass of water or a cup of tea?”
His manners shone through even as his gaze molested me. He got off on the taboo, and I was more than willing to oblige with my attire, language, and actions. “No thank you. I was hoping you’d like the dress.” Blue was his favorite color, and the minute I’d seen it, I knew it would be a perfect start for our weekend together. I spun around, letting the fabric twirl up and reveal my bare ass. “I appreciate the opportunity to wear it for you.”
“You’re not wearing any underwear.” His eyes darkened with desire.
“Nope. Scandalous, isn’t it? Anyone could have gotten a peek. Good thing I took the elevator and not the stairs.” I tugged at the straps of my dress. “It’s such a thin piece of fabric.”
Rishi swallowed, picking up on my hint.
I added heat to my gaze and let it drift down his body to the tent already pitching in the front of his trousers. “Could you imagine walking with me while I’m dressed like this?” I asked. Releasing my straps, I trailed the tips of my fingers across the hard ridges of his chest. “What would people say? Would they suspect that you prefer me like this? That you get off on putting me on display before you fuck me?”
Some clients liked me to play shy. Some liked to start out slow and build up to sex. Some liked to slam me against the wall and treat me like their dirty little bitch the moment I stepped into the room. Rishi liked to hand me the reins so I could lead him out of his comfort zone and into my naughty little world.
“Selina.”
It had been months since our last session, and he was trying to show restraint. Sweet, but unnecessary. “What’s wrong, Rishi? Don’t you want to fuck me?”
His breathing grew heavier. He was so sexually frustrated it never took much to set him off, and I enjoyed watching him give in to his real desires. Hell, it’s what he paid me for. Closing the narrow distance between us, he gently brushed a kiss against my forehead. Big, strong hands covered my back and pressed me to him. His lips sought out my cheeks, and then my mouth. With his erection digging into my stomach, his trembling hands lowered to the swell of my ass and gave me a little squeeze.
I gasped in mock disbelief.
“You drive me crazy. You make me want to do all the things I know I shouldn’t.”
