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“I wanted to catch up more. It’s been years,” he clarifies. “I haven’t seen you since Gio and Falynn moved away.”
“Mhmmm.”
“What’ve you been up to?”
“You saw me tonight. What did you think of my performance?”
“It was good. Really good. Very sexy.”
“Mhmmm. I perform almost every night… but I didn’t expect you to be in the audience. It was a nice surprise,” I purr. I let my foot travel up to his thick thigh and then the bulge in his pants. “What other surprises are you hiding, big guy?”
He looks down at his lap, then back up at me. “It seems like you really want to find out.”
“That’s kinda the idea.”
“But I kinda really want to find out more about you. So answer my question first. What’ve you been up to?”
I drop my leg from his lap and my playful expression vanishes. A sigh almost leaves me.
He really is one of those. The sensitive types who want to pretend this is some real date and not a paid one-night-only experience. Every so often I get one. Usually, they give up once we’re finished with dinner and I coyly suggest we move on to ‘dessert’.
“Same as always,” I answer graciously. “We can skip this part, you know that, right?”
He frowns. “Which part?”
“The part where we make fake conversation. You’d get your money’s worth if you show me your penthouse.”
Louis sits in silence for a couple seconds. He’s a giant in the chair. Six foot five, probably two-thirty, two-forty pounds. Broad and muscular to the point it looks like he could bust through walls. His fists are the size of boxing gloves.
One look at him, you can tell he can crush a man. As Gio’s enforcer, he probably has.
The thought makes my pussy tingle in curiosity. A lot of men can’t handle me. They don’t know what to do with all these curves and the alpha female energy I give off. I’ve trained myself not to factor in my attraction to my clients when providing my services, but I’d be lying if I said I’m nota littlecurious about what Louis Civella can do behind closed doors.
He tosses his dinner cloth on the table and scoots back his chair. He extends his hand to take mine. “C’mon,” he says. “You wanna see my penthouse, I’ll show it to you.”
Here’s a surprising fun fact about me, Tasha Henson, hustler boss bitch—I don’t like sex.
But Idolove money. Almost more than anything in this world ‘cept a few things I can count on one hand.
And since in order to get money, I have to have sex, I’ve learned to pretend I love that too. I’ve learned to be really fucking good at it.
Men like their egos stroked. They like theatrics and freakiness. They want to feel like their gigantic monster dicks make you go crazy and do the nastiest, freakiest, wildest shit just for them. You make them nut a few times, make them feel like sex gods with the biggest penis of any man alive, and you’ve successfully satisfied a client.
An art I’ve perfected from an age most people would probably say was way too young.
But I’ve always done what I had to do to survive.
Louis leads me into his penthouse at the Vittoria and offers champagne.
“Please,” I say, strutting through the large luxury space, my eyes everywhere.
Three words to describe the accommodations of Gio’s resort:
Opulent. Classic.Rich.
The penthouse feels like its worthy of its name—gold and marble wherever I look, finely designed furniture that’s imported from Italy, and the smell of money in the air.
My favorite smell in the world.
