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Smooth. Asking for tuition, rent money, gifts, and vacations.
Sometimes I like to enjoy my weekends or vacations with some friends. Are you open to socializing with my friends?
Depends on how good you treat me, but I’m always open to meeting new people.
Do they teach these girls a fucking class? How to Proposition a John Without Actually Asking for Anything 101.
So far you sound perfect, beautiful.
Dinner. Tomorrow.
Name the place. I’ll come to you.
I’m tied up with class this week. Friday.
Nikolai’s. 7 p.m.
Fuck, these men treat her well.
Make the reservation and I’ll meet you there.
See you Friday, beautiful
Is it really that fucking easy for these guys?
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
ABIGAIL
“Are you ready, kitten?” Grant stands at the bottom of the stairs with a pre-dinner Gibson in his hand. “Our ride is almost here.”
Of course I’m fucking ready!
This is the only the second time I’m leaving this house since I got here.
AND he’s taking me to Greensboro for the night.
Stopping at the bottom step, his hand slides over the luxurious fabric of black Valentino dress covering my hip, before firmly gripping my ass. Not releasing his painful squeeze, he takes a sip of his drink before questioning, “Did you do as I instructed?”
“Yes, sir.” I pause to take a relieving breath when he eases his hold. “The only thing I’m wearing are the items you left on the bed.”
“Good girl.” He smirks and places his drink on the table in the foyer. “I like knowing your sweet cunt is bare and ready for me.”
A loud repetitive thrumping sound grows closer as Grant holds my coat out for me. Slipping my arms into the sleeves, I question, “What is that?”
“Our ride, kitten,” Grant answers before leading me away from the front door. Passing through the house, he opens the door to the patio. At the far side of the pool sits a large helicopter with the blades slowing to a stop.
Ushering me through the door, he walks me to the helicopter with his hand on the small of my back. Climbing the steps, the inside is nothing like what I expected from the little I have seen of helicopters in movies and on TV.
Immediately to the left of the steps are two seats, one of which is occupied by who I am assuming is the pilot. To the right is a small cabin, similar in style to the plane I flew here on. It oozes luxury.
Something I am still not used to.
Grant is immediately behind me, leading me to a seat at the rear of the cabin. We’ve no more than sat when the I hear them seal the door.
“The flight will take about thirty minutes, sir,” a man dressed like the pilot addresses Grant before taking a seat at the front.
