“If you say so. You’re better with those types, anyway. I prefer her friend. Girl was hot with a tongue from Eden. Ended up with me bent over my couch, crying for mercy.”
“I hate you both right now.” Holly sniffed. “Grace with her attentive patron and June with her sexy daughter of Grace Kelly. I don’t even have a patron yet!”
Because clients love fucking you, but your personality scares them away once they’ve come.Holly was good at enticing everyone with her fake laughs and tit jiggles, but they quickly tired of her whiny tone and pouting. She would be great for someone who wanted to take care of a permanent teenager, but finding one was a challenge two months in the making.Now, I get to do it.“Don’t worry. My patron skipped off to the UAE. I’ve got to find a new one.”
“Really? That’s rough. You’re the first girl to lose a patron since…”
Grace stopped. June didn’t continue. Even Holly knew better than to say anything.Since Sybil.A woman whose bad experiences haunted the Manoir. Last June heard, she was getting arrested for soliciting all the way out in Portland.How the mighty fall. No sense thinking about those unpleasant things.
“We’ll be hunting a patron together. What a great rivalry I need.” Holly finally started to eat, crumbs falling from the corner of her mouth and getting all over her baggy green sweater. “How am I supposed to compete for clients with June? At least they know who you are.”
“We’ll see.” Holly was younger, more nubile, and new. Clients liked new, especially when it came to women like them.I give Sette two sessions before she’s chasing another woman to paint.It would be interesting in the meantime. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready.” For an appointment in four hours. Such was life at the Manoir.
June had a relatively simple beauty regimen. She tried to keep things as natural as possible, not only for minimum upkeep, but to keep her options open as she grew older and… aged.If clients see me look like this now, they’ll accept me better ten years from now. Most women wanted out of her line of work by thirty-five at the latest. Honestly? June had no idea what she would do otherwise. If she wasn’t making money from having sex in some capacity… fuck, what was the point? This was a woman who got her start stripping, then curating a client base, then doing side-jobs in porn, then camming when that became easier with better smartphones… by the time she was working at a high-profile place like Midnight, she already had a great income. The Manoir was the biggest league she could hope for, outside of trophy wife. Except trophy wives weren’t supposed to have sex with more than one person. That was a travesty, and made June turn down more than one proposal in her life.That poor Grecian billionaire.Still crying into his Egyptian cotton pillowcase because I said no.She barely remembered him, anyway. Mediocre in every way, minus his bank account.
Some women were more than content with that. June neededmore.
She washed and moisturized her face before doing a quick BO check.Passable. She would have to take a quick shower before the party that night, but some deodorant would be fine for Ms. Doctor Artist.What is her deal?June rolled on the deodorant and checked her pores.Minimal makeup was necessary. She would put on more for the party, where the clients wanted to see dolls as they got trashed on expensive alcohol and buried their faces in tits and ass.I’ll need more deodorant than what I have on. June got up from her vanity and perused her closet for something easy to wear. Not a hard choice. She basically had one style: the little black dress. Sometimes in other dark colors. Rarely pastels.
Even so, she wore a flirty cotton ensemble for her artist. June assumed this would be nude modeling, so the clothes were a mere formality until Sette told her to take them off.Wonder if she’ll want to put more of my cunnilingus skills to the test. June picked up a glittery gold notebook she used to track her clients. All in code, of course. If the police finally decided to take this place down one day – yeah, right – she didn’t want something conspicuous to get used as evidence that she was a dirty, rotten girl.
She wrote Sette’s initials at the top alongside the date. Modeling - $1000,was written in full. June left a few lines blank in case she had other services to track. A part of her didn’t think so, but the woman had taken her freebie…
She had finished Sette off for free. June Kingsley never did that.
It was the heat of the moment. Even a pro like her could be swayed by her own desires. She had been so into that lady that she didn’t think twice about letting her go all the way. Sure, being paid for it would have been a nice bonus… but it wasn’t always about the money.
Only 90% of the time.
“Dr. Christie is here.” It was Chelsea, the closest thing June had to a friend outside of Monique. “She’s brought… well, she’s brought half a studio with her.”
I bet.“Send her up. Tell her I’m waiting.” June returned to her furniture rearranging. Not that she knew shit about setting things up to best catch the sun’s rays coming through her window. She figured Sette would change everything around, anyway.
“All right. I don’t know what you two are going to be up to, but it looks interesting.”
Chelsea left June’s bedroom door open. June popped into the bathroom as quickly as possible and was surprised to find Sette already poking her nose in when she reemerged.
“Good afternoon.” June flashed her warmest smile as she went to her.That’s not half a studio. Maybe a quarter of one. All Sette had with her was an easel, a small canvas, and a large briefcase of supplies. The woman herself was dressed in another cashmere sweater – this one a dark, rustic brown that brought out the depth of her amber eyes and the chestnut that was her hair – and a black skirt that was more comfort than style for someone of her income level. June didn’t mind. Her clients could come in wearing overalls and grease stains if they could pay up. I once dated a mechanic. Whatever.“Do you need help?”
Sette was caught staring at her from the doorway. June was used to people staring at her. She was tall, strawberry blond, and knew her worth to the point she was more intimidating than their own mothers. Then they wanted to fuck her.
“No, I’m fine.” Sette lumbered in, taking the view of her room. “You have a sophisticated aesthetic, June.”
“Thank you.”These old things?They were from a pile of donated antique furniture, and the only ones that didn’t make her gag when she rummaged through them. Some pieces she acquired on her own, others were gifts from clients, and the 16th century ottoman in the corner… that was from Mitchell, the fucker.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to set up right here.” Her client gestured to an empty spot on the side of the room, right in front of the bathroom. “I’m glad to see your room faces west. Excellent sunlight at this time of day.”
June took the easel in her hands. Sette looked at her as if June had thrown it out the window.Right. Artists and their toys. I mean, implements.
“Sorry.”
“No. It’s fine. It’s a travel easel.”
“Right. Your nice one is at home.”
Her nose twitched. “Actually, yes.”
June brushed a hand against hers. “I haven’t modeled in a long time, and never for an artist like you.” She touched her again, this time on the wrist, a tried and true erogenous zone.Get wet. Fuck me.A woman had to put that out into the universe to make it come true.
