Page 23 of Black Light: Cured

The driving beat helps keep me going, but even so, I’ll probably need a shot of espresso before

the night is out, especially if I want to play. It doesn’t matter, because right now, it’s not about play.

It’s about seeing to his comfort so he can be the best he can before he goes out into the club. That’s my

job. That’s why I’m here.

As I turn on the water to wash my hands, I look over my uniform again, making sure there are no

stains, rips, or tears. The scrubs are baggy, loose, allowing me to move. They’re not the sexiest things

in the world, but then they don’t need to be sexy to be functional.

Besides, I’m sure as a medical professional himself, Master Aiden appreciates me looking like

this. It shows him that I’m here to work, to see to his medical needs and not his sexual ones. It’s one

of the main reasons I wear my scrubs. It lets everyone know that I mean business and they should take

me seriously.

Pulling out a rubber band from my pocket, I wrangle my curls and pull them back into a high

ponytail. Normally, I do this before the clients even see me, but Master Aiden decided to come early,

throwing off my entire schedule. I take in several deep breaths as I clench the sink, willing my arousal

to settle.

Washing my hands once more, I step back out into the club and nearly bump into Klara as I make

my way back to the massage space. She looks at me and smiles for a moment before her lips turn

down in a studious frown.

“You look like shit.” Her tone is light, jovial, but I can hear the concern threading underneath.

Ever since I started working on Master Spencer, she and I have become a lot closer. She’s always

the first one to give me shit, but in a friendly, sisterly sort of way. As an only child, it makes me feel

loved, part of their family.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” I tease back, shoving into her with my shoulder.

“Seriously though. You going to be okay? I’m not sure how you do it. You work for seven hours at

your other job then come here?”

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.” The joking is all well and good, but deep down, I

know she’s right.

“You do know that you’re pushing yourself way too hard, right?” Klara insists, adding to my

internal frustration.

Helpless, I shrug my shoulders and look around. “What else can I do? I can’t afford my Black