Page 2 of Choosing Scarlet

The line only rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Mr. Fisher, how wonderful of you to reach out again,” Tasha says from the other side of the line. She’s my appointed coordinator and has learned my taste. She hasn’t disappointed me once, and I don’t doubt that she’ll get her job done today again. “How can I help you today?”

“I need a date for a formal event,” I say, straight to the point. There’s no point in beating around the bush. “I need someone intelligent who can handle my world. Someone whom I wouldn’t mind being seen with, and someone who can engage in conversation when people approach us.”

“That’s no problem,” Tasha says on the other side of the line. “Just give me a moment, and I’ll send you a few profiles that you can review.” The clicking of a keyboard echoes from the other side of the line, and I can already tell she’s working on it. A brief pause lingers between us before she speaks again. “Anything else, Mr. Fisher?”

“That will be all,” I say. “Thank you.”

With those words, I hang up. Not even a few minutes pass before I receive an email from The Network with a few carefully selected profiles. All of them are gorgeous women who would make any man’s head turn, with credentials that certainly fit the criteria I mentioned.

One of them stands out amongst the others. Scarlet Perry. The first thing that catches my eye is her vintage glasses in every picture. She’s twenty-six. Tall and slim, with warm brown eyes and dark hair. She carries a seductive smile that instantly makes me wonder about her more. Her areas of interest and hobbies vary; while she’s not in my world, her wide range of interests shows that she can handle herself and has a curiosity I’m sure I’ll appreciate.

That’s exactly what I need for the gala.

SCARLET

An orgasm spreads through me, violent and merciless, in wave after wave of pleasure that consumes me entirely. My head swirls, and for a moment, the entire world around me disappears.

This feels good.

So damn good.

My whole body shakes as his hand tightens around my throat, applying more pressure there. It feels like I’m in heaven; there’s no other explanation for the sensation that pounds through my body, dragging out for an eternity. Second after second, I’m lost in this bliss.

It’s euphoric. Cathartic, even.

Another shudder breaks through my body before the pleasure finally begins to disperse, and I’m left trembling and gasping for air. The hand removes from my throat, and the weight that was on top of me until moments ago plops to the side.

Both belong to Xavier O’Connell, one of my regulars, and, undoubtedly, one of the best fucks I’ve ever had. Seeing his name on my schedule is enough to brighten up my entire day. I turn to face him. His dirty blonde hair falls messily around his face, and his deep brown eyes remain locked on mine. Then a smile curves across his face. It mirrors the one that appears on mine.

“You know your time is out, don’t you?” I murmur. Xavier has been a regular for so long that we’ve developed a somewhat less formal relationship. Usually I wouldn’t dare to speak to a client like this, but Xavier knows me, and I know him.

That’s one of many things I like about working at The Network.

I build connections, get paid for spending time in rich men’s company, and occasionally get rewarded with a mind-blowing orgasm like this one. It’s been a dream job for me since day one.

“Do you speak to all your clients like this?” he says, but I don’t miss the teasing undertone in his voice. The smile on my face widens.

“Only my favorite ones.”

As I unlock the door to my apartment, I feel good. Better than I’ve felt in a long time. My body is light and my mind clear as the familiar scent of home greets me when I drop my keys into the little ceramic bowl by the door.

This apartment was a complete mess when I first found it. It was a tiny, dim place that most people would have walked right past, but I saw its potential. Now the once-bare walls are covered in light purple wallpaper with soft, swirling patterns. A massive dark green couch stretches across the living room, overflowing with pillows in every color and size I could find. The vintage coffee table sitting in front of it’s still one of my favorite thrift store treasures.

Bookshelves line the walls, stacked high with volumes on the occult, astrology, and a few random novels I’ve collected over the years. The kitchen opens to the right, with a small round dining table tucked in the corner. The cabinets are old, straight from the 80s, and although I once thought about replacing them, I’ve grown to love them.

It all feels so perfectly, so wonderfully like home. It’s a place where I feel like I, for once, truly belong.

I drop my bag beside the door and make a beeline for the couch. My tarot cards and a small pile of books I’ll need for my weekly astrology forecast are already waiting there. I sink into the soft cushions and begin to shuffle the deck. I try to focus all my thoughts and all my energy on the cards in my hands. Intention matters in readings like this. It’s something I’ve learned over time, something I know better than anyone.

Then my phone buzzes loudly beside me, breaking my concentration. Jessie’s name lights up the screen. Jessie is more than just a friend; she’s the person who helped me find my way when everything fell apart. She’s the one who introduced me to The Network, and without her, who knows what my life would have looked like by now. For that, she has my eternal gratitude.

If it were anyone else, I’d let the call go to voicemail right now.

But for her, I answer.

“Hey girl,” her cheerful voice fills the room when I pick up. “How are you doing?”