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Because he wasn’t what I’ve been expecting. Not at all.
In my head, the men I’ve pictured since taking this job were bald, fat, and sexist.
Handsy. Disgusting.
However, what I got didn’t fit the preconceived man in my mind.
Malcolm isn’t any of that.
No. Not at all.
He’s not the man the other girls told me is cold and distant. A dangerous animal that isn’t to be trusted, but for some inexplicable reason, I do. Inside that room, I didn’t experience fear or anxiety. Not once.
It’s the opposite. With him, there’s calm.
He didn’t ask for extra privileges like the others. Like I know some of the other women here agree to. Enjoy.
Something that I might need to accept if the price is right. If my desperation sinks to a new low.
Malcolm’s touch—I can still feel the possessiveness in his hold—was gentle yet firm. It didn’t come with the repulsion I thought would accompany it. Not once did I feel like a whore.
Like the virginal idiot I am deep down.
The kind that in desperation ran to a total stranger’s door asking for a chance.
The stereo clicks off then and I push myself off the wall, rushing down the hall before Malcolm opens the door. There’s an empty room on this floor that Liam told me to use in case I want a breather, and right now, I’m needing more than that.
“Jesus, what is wrong with me?” I whisper, out of breath as I close the door and his opens a few doors down. My back to the wooden structure, I close my eyes and focus on his steps as he passes me and continues down the hall.
Heart pounding and hands clammy, I try and regain some semblance of composure, but it’s hard. Too hard, when behind closed lids all I see is him.
That man is the textbook definition of tall, dark, and handsome. I’m petite against his harsher planes—soft curves to his muscular frame. The way he wore that suit, tailor-made to define every solid inch, is sinful, and yet the way he removed said jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and popped a button up top made my knees weak. Add to that the bold tattoo on his right arm, the skull with dark shadowing and bright blue eyes, and I’m left a literal mess.
And what’s worse, I like it. Him. A lot.
His smile made me feel warm inside.
How his attention never left me still causes goose bumps to break out down my arms.
He’s the kind of man no one survives from. A total destruction of one’s senses; he’s the hurricane I didn’t see coming.
Jesus, London. Snap out of it.
Malcolm is a client. A client.
He’s paying for a service, while I need men like him to reach my goal. He’s nothing but a means to an end.
Shaking off thoughts of him, I wait another ten minutes before slipping out of the room and then taking the private stairway down to the employee area. It’s a large space with three separate rooms attached; a locker area, changing room, and an employee lounge for a bit of relaxing.
Moreover, while Liam’s a smooth talker with a penchant to come off as creepy, he’s been very accommodating to my fears. To the years of distrust that have been scaring me.
My contract isn’t like the others here:
No touching under my clothing.
No full nudity.
No sex unless I consent.
