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“Sorry, yes. Hello. My name is Victor Bennett and…”
“Of course, Mr. Bennett. You were on my list of calls to make today. How are you today?”
Terrible, Boris. Maybe the worst I’ve ever been.
“I think I’ll be better soon. Thank you for asking. I’m just calling to confirm that I will be checking in on time. The only change is that it will be a reservation for one.”
Chapter2
“I wantto spit on your face.”
“Dude, what? No. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Oliver took a step back as the guy advanced on him. Karl? No…Kevin? He had it in his email somewhere, but this was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill BJ, not some kink scene.
“You can’t tell me no!”
Oliver fought back a laugh. “The hell I can’t, pal. This is me telling you hell fucking no.”
“Then what the fuck am I paying you for?” Karl-Kevin demanded.
Oliver reached into his pocket and touched his pepper spray. In the years he’d been working as an escort, he hadn’t had to use it yet. Still, the forum he posted on almost nightly had enough horror stories about nightmare clients that he always kept himself protected.
He had zero problem loaning out his body so he didn’t have to pay his school back with hissoulin fifteen months, but he had standards.
And rules.
“You paid me for a blow job,” Oliver said, crossing his free arm over his chest defensively. He’d been hit only once before by a pissed-off client, and he was not in the mood to get knocked around again. Kevin-Karl looked a little like he might try it. “You got your blow job.”
“Yeah, but…”
“You want something else, you need to negotiate that shit.”
“Fine,” he said, throwing his arms up. “How much for—”
“No,” Oliver said like he was talking to a small child, “you got what you paid for tonight. You want more, you know how to book it. Everything in writing. Everything.”
“Like you’re gonna take me to court or some shit? You know what you’re doing is illegal, right?” Kevin-Karl sneered.
Oliver raised a brow. “Nope. Not this side of the county line, bud. And assault is assault no matter what city we’re in.”
Kevin-Karl hesitated, then took a step back. Oliver was pretty sure the guy was spineless. He could usually tell when someone was actually dangerous, and Kevin-Karl just had issues of control and could probably do with a few anger management classes.
Running his hand through his hair, Oliver grimaced when he touched something sticky, but he made sure his fringe didn’t gofull Something About Marybefore dropping his arms. “Anyway, see you.”
“Wait,” Kevin-Karl called out, but Oliver was in no mood. He wanted a long, hot shower because in spite of Oliver warning him, the guy had stealth removed the condom and jerked off in his hair. Which was a big fuck-no in Oliver’s books.
He’d have to schedule an early STI test, which pissed him off because his time was precious.
And right then, he wanted to spend what little he had at home with a tofu burrito from the little shop down the street that had just opened, watching BBQ Showdown. At least with a clean body and full belly, he could ignore the massive amounts of editing work he had in front of him after his advisor returned the latest chapters of his thesis.
When he started doing this job, he knew it was going to cut into his research time, but he hadn’t realized that most of that time-suck would be emotional and mental. He had no regrets because coming out of this mess with zero debt was enough, but he was at the point now that he was counting down the days until he could write that final check and say it was over.
He was ten minutes from his apartment, which meant fifteen minutes from his shower, and twenty—twenty-five, if he wanted to be generous—from collapsing on his sofa. Pulling into his favorite parking spot, he opened up his delivery app and ordered his burrito with an extra-large side of guac and the largest Dr. Pepper they had, then left a fat tip and hoofed it up the stairs. He took them two at a time and let out a huge sigh of relief when the scent of his rose oil diffuser hit his nose.
He didn’t bother doing anything except dropping his bag and kicking off his shoes before rushing to the bathroom. The delivery guy would leave his shit on the doorstep, and he didn’t have any neighbors to steal from him, so he could take his time.
The scent of his expensive, thick shampoo allowed him to shake off the bad night. He enjoyed the soft waves of rose as he scrubbed his hair with the edges of his blunt nails, not stopping until the stiffness in his hair was gone.
It was hardly the first time a client got him a little messy, and it wasn’t like Oliver minded sex being a little wild and even a little filthy. His past lovers had complained about his attention span and his weird obsession with history, and even sometimes about the way he looked.
