Slowly, I slide the hem of my dress up. I already took my underwear off in the elevator, so I’m exposed to him as soon as it reaches my hips.
His eyes widen and his mouth opens as he begins to pant, his hand flexing on his crotch again.
“No touching yourself,” I tell him. Then I place one leg over his shoulder, opening myself up to him completely. “Now…make me come.”
Ten minutes and a fake orgasm later, Tom stands to his feet with a wet spot on his pants and a blush on his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, embarrassed by how quickly everything happened. “It was a…rough week.”
I smile warmly, and I barely have to force it. For one, I only ever want my clients to feel satisfied. But for another, I’m never going to complain about an appointment ending early.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him as I stand to study my reflection in the mirror. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
But I know the answer even as I ask the question. While some men like the company and actually wantto talk, Tom only wants one thing. And he just got it.
“No, no, I don’t want to bore you,” he says, confirming my thoughts. “I…appreciate you coming by.”
I turn and smile at him. “Anytime,” I purr.
He becomes momentarily mesmerized by my lipstick, but with a two-day refractory period, his body isn’t capable of doing anything about it. His eyes move up to meet mine, and this time, there’s nothing sexual in his gaze.
He nods at the envelope on the dresser. “Your money is in there. I added a little extra as a thank you for fitting me in last-minute.”
“You’re too good to me,” I say softly, placing my hand on his cheek before I step away. “Call me any time, okay? You know I love to see you.”
I know I’ve done my job well when I see him buy the lie.
Ten minutes later, I’ve made myself publicly presentable again and tucked the money into my purse. Twenty-eight minutes after entering the hotel room, I’m leaving two thousand dollars richer.
As soon as the elevator doors close behind me, I pull out my phone to text the agency.
Scarlett: Done early. Everything’s fine. I just left the hotel.
Amara’s text comes back immediately.
Amara: Enjoy the early night. Thanks for checking in.
My obligatory check-in complete, I slide my phone back into my purse.
I catch a taxi in front of the hotel without issue. It’s New York City, after all. And it’s easier than having my driver wait for an hour, which would clearly give away what I’m doing in the hotel.
Sliding into the backseat, I give the driver a polite smile and my address, then let out a heavy breath. I’m officially off work for another twenty-four hours. I could make more money if I saw more clients, but I have a strict one-man-a-day rule, six days out of the week.
When we reach my apartment building, I wordlessly pay the driver and climb out of the cab. With every step toward the lobby, I pray for the numbness to fade. For some life to return to my body after selling it.
This feeling is one of the reasons I schedule my appointments at night. Because the only way for me to shed the mask I don for my clients is to take a sleeping pill and hope the sunrise snaps me back to life.
This isn’t the life I envisioned for myself.
THREE
NICO
The smell of sweat and Icy Hot is a comforting one. So is the sound of leather hitting leather, followed by the occasional gasp or cheer. It’s a setting that’s felt like home for as long as I can remember.
I pull on my boxing gloves and take my place at one of the heavy bags. And then I pummel the shit out of it.
Punch after punch, I lay into the bag, blowing right past the bell signaling the end of the round. It isn’t until I’ve blown past the second bell without stopping that I even start to breathe heavy.
