Page 49 of Envy


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“Maybe, but you’d still make twenty-five hundred dollars a session. You don’t make that in a week now, do you? Five thousand dollars a session,” she repeats.

I consider it because I would only need a few of those a week to earn enough money to go back to school. And at that rate, it wouldn’t take me long to have the first month’s payment for the treatment.

The carrot she’s dangling is tempting.

Very.

My car is a piece of shit. It gets the job done. But, it would be nice to have a car that I wasn’t embarrassed to park next to my friends.

And the polo club. The guys are all members there. It would be nice to walk in there as a member and not just when my friends can swing a visitor’s pass for me.

But all of that is nothing compared to the name that’s ringing in my head like an alarm.

Apollo.

Apollo.

Apollo.

My mind is whirling. I’m so tempted. But, I can’t do what she’s asking.

“I’m sorry. I hate that I wasted your time. I can’t.” I stand up so fast that my chair falls back. I catch it before it hits the ground and look down in to Nanette’s amused eyes.

“You didn’t waste my time. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just think about it and let me know.”

I didn’t tell her I didn’t need to think about it. Instead, I smiled and apologized before I excused myself.

“Bye, Graham,” Nanette calls after me.

A week later, my mother developed pneumonia and was admitted to the hospital. I’d been at work on the night shift at Costco and hadn’t even been home when she’d called 911 and had been taken over in an ambulance.

Three weeks after she got home, all of the bills from that visit started rolling in. There was one from the hospital, the doctor who saw her, the pharmacy, the company that made the breathing machine she came home with. I called them all and made payment arrangements and paid what I could.

Today, I went to pick up an anti-nausea medication that she needed, and my credit card was declined. I went straight from the store to Talisman and Nanette.

“Is that offer still there?” I’m standing in the door of her office. She smiles as she looks me up and down, her eyes are full of triumph. Worry and working as much as I can has robbed me of sleep. I know I look like shit. But I don’t care. I feel like shit. And I’m desperate. Nanette rises out of her chair and walks slowly toward me. She’s wearing a skin tight white dress with a plunging neckline that leaves very little to the imagination.

“I’m glad you like looking at me, Graham,” she says, and my eyes snap to hers.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” I say wearily.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s a good thing. The job is yours if you want it,” she says, standing in front of me and looking me up and down.

“God, you’re going to make us a lot of money,” she drawled, a satisfied smile on her face.

She reached up and patted my cheek. “Get some rest and then come to my place. We’ll get started tonight.”

In a moment of candor that I soon regret, I tell Nanette I’m a virgin.

She smiles that predator’s smile of hers before she kneeled between my legs. She said she needed to make sure everything worked as it should before she sent me out to paying clients.

When her tongue touches my cock for the first time, it feels good. Really good.

But, I don’t like it.

I stare down at Nanette’s head, and I feel … nothing. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it either.

It’s not enjoyable in anything more than a physical way. What’s all the fuss about? This is purely a biological function of our bodies. Sure, it feels good, but only physically. Nothing else engages.

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