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he waits for me and I get the impression she either wants me to offer more, or I've offended her with my tattoo comment, so I quickly fix it.
"I take that back. It depends on the artist and how much money someone is willing to spend. But most people are cheap. They want everything for nothing, and because of that, in twenty years it's going to look like an abstract blob of color."
"If you had the money, and the right artist, would you get one?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I don't waste my money on things that aren't necessities."
Something flashes in her eyes.
"Have you always had to work for what you want?"
"Yes. My grandmother struggled to raise me, and now I do everything in my power to make sure she no longer has to struggle, even though she hates that I do."
"Where are you parents?"
"Dead."
"Both?"
"Yes. They died in a car accident when I was very young."
"So you go above and beyond for your grandmother because she's the only family you have left."
"Always."
"Where were you working before you came here?"
I correct her. "I'm currently working at a laundromat, and I was a nanny for a family of twin boys on Long Island, but I recently quit."
She angles her head just slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Why did you quit?"
"Because the husband kept underpaying me or only paid me when he felt like it. I don’t like when people mess with my hard-earned money."
She makes a little sound in the back of her throat and I feel triumphant. By her reaction, what I said is something she wanted to hear. I didn't say it just for her benefit, though. I truly feel that way.
Madam Christine pushes off the table and waves her fingers for us to follow her. I take in her backside and I'm a little surprised by how amazing she looks. I have no idea how old she is, but she doesn’t look a day over forty. I’d wager she's much older, though.
We walk into a room that reminds me of a place where boudoir photos would be taken. She shuts the door and I take in the room in awe. Lush and soft, inviting. My favorite part is the blush pink, lilac gray, and ivory string of pearls that holds back the long slate gray curtains.
I turn around to see what we're doing in here when Christine walks up to me. She's a few feet from me and her eyes roam my face.
"Strip."
My eyes shift to Natalie and Christine snaps her fingers in front of my face.
"Don't look at her. She won't be in the room when you're with a client. Strip."
I blink, taken aback. Natalie and I dress in front of each other all the time, but I wasn't expecting this.
I’ve also never just stripped for anyone before, so there's that.
Looking Christine in the eye, I hand Natalie the little clutch she let me borrow, then pull down the thin straps of my dress. My breasts spill out and my nipples instantly pucker from the chilly air. She doesn’t hide her wandering eyes and focuses on my raspberry areolas. Her lingering gaze makes me glow with arousal. She makes me feel sexy. I wasn’t expecting this reaction. I arch my back a little and push the dress over my hips and step out of it, debating whether I want to leave it on the floor or hold it up for her. I don't want her thinking I'm cocky. Pushing it to the side, I stand tall, my breasts full but perky.
