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I’m under a drape, a little cold, and very, very uncomfortable. Just like the doctor’s office. I don’t know how Camille does this every year. Sure, the money is amazing and I’m kind of aroused in a weird way at the moment, but doing this more than once would be too much. I’d make a terrible professional escort. Those women are amazing to me. So much braver than I am.
I’ve read accounts of their lives. It tracks with what Camille said—every guy likes something different. Some like feet, some like you to pet their head and tell them they’re a good boy, others want to get straight to business. I’m kind of hoping for the latter, because I don’t think I could stop giggling if he wanted to lick my feet. Maybe that’s why they make the room smell like cinnamon. So we don’t feel self-conscious when a guy wants to lick our feet.
My champagne buzz makes me giggle at the oddness of the thought and of my night, when a knock at the door makes me jump. Show time.
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Chapter 10
JUNE
I expect him to barge in, not knock. What the hell do I say?
But instead, he asks through the door, “May I come in?”
I want to tell him something tacky like, “It’s your dime,” but instead, my heart lodges in my throat, and I can’t get anything out for a breath. What the fuck am I doing with my life? I’m naked and trembling and about to see a strange man in the dark who paid a ridiculous amount of money to sleep with me. It feels like the last chance to get off this crazy train.
But I need that money.
And some naughty part of me is way more into this than I want to admit.
I clear my throat. “Yes, come in.”
The door opens and the faint light from the hall frames him so I can’t see his face. All I can make out are the outlines of a black tuxedo and short hair. At least he has hair. Probably not a thousand years old. Thank God. He’s quite tall, with narrow hips and broad shoulders, but that’s all I can tell about him. He closes the door behind himself, and I’m alone in the room with a complete stranger.
Security is just outside. Relax.
He doesn’t march to the bed to have his filthy way with me. Instead, he stays near the door, like he might run out of the room. He liked me well enough to bid. Now that he has me, what does he want to do with me?
His voice is deep. “Before things progress, I have some questions.”
“Okay.”
“You are a beautiful woman. You could have any man you wanted. Why resort to such an arrangement?”
I could tell him it’s the money, but that seems cheap and I doubt that’s a turn-on for him. It’s also a little embarrassing. Here’s this man with all the money in the world. He wouldn’t understand the reasons people would sell themselves. He’s never struggled in his life, I’m sure of it. How could he understand the truth?
Besides, it’s not the only reason. Not really. Just sitting here, waiting for him to make his move, I’m on edge, and I kind of like it. But it’s embarrassing to admit that to myself and makes my stomach flip when I think about it.
So, I pull my shoulders back to let the sheet hang on my tits. Covered, but revealing at the same time. Let him think I’m into this. Because a part of me is. I try for a seductive register in my voice and hope the words don’t squeak out of me. “It sounded like something fun to do. Life is short. Might as well enjoy it while we can, right?”
“I suppose that’s true.” He strolls to the desk and leans on the edge with his arms folded over his chest. “But is that the only reason? Life is short?”
What is he driving at? “Do I need another?”
“No.”
“Why did you agree to this arrangement?” Maybe I shouldn’t ask that question, but I’m curious and he brought it up.
He takes a beat, and I’m not sure he’ll answer me. “You strike me as the kind of woman who enjoys a mystery. Perhaps I should keep that detail to myself.”
Not answering. Great. I’ll die of curiosity. “Generally, I prefer answers.”
“Have you always?”
Odd question. “Well, yes.”
“Hmm.” He shifts his stance, arms at his sides. “I recognize this is a peculiar situation. But for me to fully enjoy myself, I’d like to know some things about you, if you’ll permit it.”
