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What strikes me more than anything is the fact that a woman like Imogen is a client at Endeavors. She’s not just beautiful, she’s stunning, sweet and softly spoken.
A woman like her doesn’t need to pay for sex. Maybe the men in her life have been duds, that’s the only possible explanation. The dating game is hard, I’ve been there.
Of course, I have her number from the client records, but I can’t text her. I consider the possibility she may be having regrets, or worse, did she not enjoy herself?
I shake my head. That can’t be right. I crack my neck from side to side, irritated with my internal monologue. Then I realize Marcus has stopped talking.
“I’m calling a meeting on Friday,” I say. Perfect timing since I’m considering firing everyone. If I do, they’ll all be in the same room together. I’m over this shit and all the excuses.
I turn to Marcus. He smiles expectantly, like I’m going to pat him on the head like a cute dog.
He’s clearly deluded.
“Tell everyone.”
“Uh, everyone, sir?” he stammers.
“Yes. Doris will send a memo. Now get out of my office.”
His eyes go wide. “But we still have to discuss…”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, Marcus. We don’t.”
“I have some new ideas for the…” He trails off as my phone buzzes in my pocket and I reach for it.
A small smile creeps on my face.
Well, well.
“Mr. Petrov?” Marcus whines.
Why are all my staff so needy?
“Fuck off,” I bark.
I hear him scurry away and I continue to smile at the message.
It seems I haven’t lost my touch at all. Thank fuck for that.
Krasavitsa
Hello, Khristian. I hope it’s okay that I’m texting you? I just wanted to say thank you for the other night. Though that kinda sounds weird… considering what we did. I just wanted to tell you I enjoyed it. A lot. The flowers were beautiful x
Another message suddenly appears.
Krasavitsa
P.S. This is Imogen
I smile wider.
Oh, I know who you are, my beautiful, little rose.
I reach into my jacket pocket – her panties are still in there. I took her underwear not as a trophy, but as a reminder. They’re mine now and I wonder if she’ll ask me what I did with them.
My dick hardens even more in my pants. I haven’t been able to stop touching myself since I got home on Saturday morning. Pleasuring myself in the shower, in my bed, on my fucking couch. I’m starting to think I have a problem. And my problem is Imogen Anderson.
Nothing compares to sinking into her sweet pussy. I can’t even imagine what her ass would feel like…
