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CHAPTER 1
Evil lurks within the dark bowels of our very minds, hungering to breech the surface. For many, the only salvation is Hell…
“Yes?” Trixie answered the phone with little inflection.
“Is this Trixie?” His words were almost inaudible.
“It is.” She kept the tone of her voice guttural, sensual in a way every man appreciated. She loathed the stage name, reminiscent of a call girl or floozy, but the pseudonym had stuck from the first time she’d entered a well-known kink club.
“Excellent. You come highly recommended. Your skills are legendary.”
“Yes, they are. Are you looking for anything in particular?” Sighing, she filled her glass of wine, taking a sip before walking toward the window. She knew the hesitation well. Most of her clients, at least the new ones, debated what they were getting into. She set her glass down on the coffee table and waited. Patience wasn’t her virtue.
He laughed. “Anything and everything.”
As she eased her finger under the blind, lifting until she could clearly see the dimly lit street, she debated whether she was in the mood to work. She’d grown weary of various clients and their sadistic desires. However, she had a reputation to uphold, one securing her time spent with very special clientele, men whose needs few could tolerate. For this alone she was paid extremely well. Money she needed. “I am the best at what I do, and I’m paid handsomely. I hope you understand. I refuse to tolerate any bullshit.”
His laugh was husky. “They also mentioned you were formidable. I appreciate the attitude, although when in my realm, you’ll be expected to follow orders.”
Trixie’s eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. For a few seconds she remained quiet as she scanned her surroundings. The neighborhood was pristine in nature, rule infractions simply not acceptable. She’d selected carefully, preferring to come and go without notice. She hadn’t made friends, never attended a neighborhood gathering or ridiculous barbeque, but the serene setting allowed her anonymity. No one knew about her nightly activity. No one ever would. “Who is your contact?”
“Mistress Jade.”
The man certainly had connections. He’d passed various requirements, so he had money, clout, and was known in very exclusive circles. “Very well. My fee is ten thousand dollars for three hours. I trust you’ll have cash.”
“Of course.”
“Thirty minutes. Do you have special instructions?” She could hear his rapid breathing and managed to keep from cursing. Men who had little control she had zero respect for.
“Wear a red bra and matching thong, stilettos and a black raincoat.”
“Done. What is your name?” Trixie could care less. They never gave their real name or any correct information. Anonymity was also important for her clients. Of course, she knew who many of them were, their positions in society. She never divulged information, which is one of the reasons she was so highly recommended. She raised the blinds until she had a direct view of the street.
“Master Wally.”
“Give me your address, Master Wally.” There was no need to write anything down. Her memory was perfect, allowing her to recollect every Dom as well as his or her particular proclivities. She spoiled them, and in turn, they paid her well for her complete submission.
“Come prepared, sweet slut.”
“I always do, Sir.” When she hung up the phone, she palmed the glass, exhaling slowly. The nights were becoming endless. So much so, she was starting to hate her life.
She grabbed her coat, heading out the door. Maybe a fresh start was what she needed.
Thirty minutes later she eased her Mercedes into the driveway where Wally lived. Massive brick columns flanked the aggregate stone, ancient trees lining the long pathway. She hesitated before continuing, her gut churning. Normally, she’d have spent a solid two hours on the Internet, affirming what she could of the identity of the person she would hand over a heightened level of trust. This time she wasn’t afforded the luxury. Mistress Jade was the single reason she was here.
Rounding a corner, she wasn’t surprised at the house or the surroundings. Her clients were all wealthy. Their worth, clout, and special hungers prevented them from securing normal relationships. Then again, none wanted formal attachments, preferring to hire a professional in order to feed their desires.
As she climbed out of her car, she studied the perimeter. Even in the darkness she could tell the lawn and surrounding landscape was meticulously groomed. No one knew what went on behind closed doors. The thought gave her a smile. She adjusted the collar of her coat and slipped her car key fob into her pocket before walking to the front door. The moment she stepped onto the landing the door opened.
“You’re right on time, Trixie. You’re a very good girl.”
His face was obscured by the shadows, but she could tell he was a formidable man, standing at well over six and a half feet tall. “I’m a professional. Of that you’re well aware, Sir.” She would no longer refer to him by his fake name. For the next three hours she was required to show him utter respect. She was his submissive, his slave for the evening.
“Yes. Something I admire. Come in.” He remained behind the door as he invited her inside.
Hearing the click as the door was locked was to be expected. She shoved her hands into her pockets and waited, entering her role. Tonight, she belonged to him.
“Walk into the den. Remove your coat and face the fire.” His command was sharp.
