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“Imagine what’s going to happen when Mr. Kerfew from History sees the video. Hell, maybe he’salreadyseen the video!”
Clara makes a face.
“Gross, he’s so old and hairy. I wouldn’t want him seeing a naked clip of me, much less where I’m doing something naughty.”
I merely shrug.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it’s already out there, and people were clamoring to buy those candlesticks, believe it or not. I could probably sell them for six figures on eBay, come to think of it,” I muse.
Clara starts laughing then.
“OMG, this is all so crazy. But that means you’ve never met the guy, right? What if he’s absolutely deranged? What if it’s all an elaborate scam and you get stranded out in London with no place to stay, and end up living in a bus shelter? I don’t mean to be paranoid, but youdidsay this is a new service.”
“Yes, I know,” I acknowledge before shrugging. “But everyone meets new clients on occasion, and besides, you know these guys are screened up the wazoo by the agency. Trust me, nothing gets past the club because I think they have access to an FBI database or something. Don’t ask me how, but they’ve dug up stuff that only a government agency could know.”
Clara nods, looking astonished.
“Wow,” she whispers. “Just wow.”
I nod.
“It’s going to be insane. I mean, hell, I’m game even if heisa troll. Of course, I hope he isn’t, but the long and the short of it is that I’m getting paid a ton of money just to be some British guy’s fuck doll for a week.”
“Sydney!” Clara practically screams, throwing a pair of socks at me. “You’re so dirty!”
I giggle and dodge them before throwing another pair right back at her.
“What, it’s true! There’s no need to sugarcoat it formysake.”
Clara rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. “But if you are, then why pack anything other than lingerie?” she reasons. “It’s not like you’ll be going out on dates with this billionaire dude.”
I pause to think for a moment.
“You’re probably right,” I giggle. “Okay, no cocktail dresses, mini-skirts or halter tops. Just panties and bras, and some negligees and stripper heels too. And maybe a trench coat, so I can flash him if need be.”
With that, we both start laughing like hyenas because this entire situation is so insane. After all, I’m being flown to a new locale with the express intention of servicing a rich client for a week. I’m going to let him use my curves however he sees fit, and the truth is that I’m going to enjoy it too. After all, what most folks don’t realize is that I actually adore my line of work. Pleasing men is what my curves were built to do, and as long as no one gets hurt, then what’s the harm? The only problem is that I don’t know the true meaning of the word “harm” yet because a dangerous situation is coming my way … it just hasn’t shown its face.
2
SYDNEY
Istep into the first class cabin on my plane to London, and let out a contented sigh while looking around because this seating area is definitely luxurious. We’re up by the front of the plane and everything’s done in a neutral color palette. The seats appear to be made of real leather, and they’re widely spaced with clever consoles on both sides, as well as swivel trays and miniature TVs that are sure to have all the latest entertainment offerings.
Giggling, I look around and of course, there’s an older woman on the other side of the plane shooting daggers at me, but I ignore her. I get it. Other ladies can get jealous and today, the envy’s going to turn them green because I’m wearing a tight white mini-dress with no bra underneath. As is my wont, I absolutelyrefuseto wear anything loose and unflattering at any time because as Mom always says, who knows who you’ll see when you go to the grocery store? The last thing I want is to find myself seated next to a gorgeous man for a six-hour flight while dressed in a sack. I’d be kicking myself with regret.
Plus, I’m not wearing panties today either. Usually, I do wear panties because my clients have a thing about them. They like slipping them down my thighs, or they enjoy pulling the gusset to the side to reveal my glistening pinkness. But since there won’t be any clients for the next five hours, I’ve gone commando and it feels so nice. There’s a breeze between my thighs as I sit and to be honest, the material’s almost at my waist because my skirt is so short. But it’s okay. I’ll just cover my lap with a blanket to keep things G-rated around here.
But right as I’m reaching for the blanket, a very handsome man boards the plane. His blue eyes gleam as he takes in my voluptuous figure, and just to tempt him a bit, I giggle soundlessly and subtly jiggle my tits, making them bounce. He stares just a moment too long before moving past me in the aisle, and it’s clear that he’s probably seated a few rows back.
Wow, who was that? I got a glimpse of a very tall, muscular man whose night-black hair almost brushed the ceiling of the cabin. He was in an expensive-looking suit that highlighted those broad shoulders and long, tree-trunk legs. Not only that, but the man had skin the color of mahogany, paired with bright blue eyes that stood out in contrast to the bronze of his skin. Mmm, yummy. Clearly, he’s a powerful businessman.
But there’s no time to wander by the handsome passenger with a wiggle of my hips because we’ll be taking off soon. Sure enough, within minutes, we’re up in the air and I sigh while closing my eyes. This is the life. The stewardess comes by with warm nuts and champagne, but oddly, I’m feeling very sleepy and decline before settling deeper into my plush seat.
But then, something rouses me from my catnap, and I stir. What was that? Is that shouting? Some huffed grunts? My eyes slowly open, and I’m a little annoyed because beauty sleep is very important to me, so what the hell is going on? But then loud, angry words are uttered and I twist around in my seat to look.
To my surprise, it’s the handsome man. His brows are drawn and that dark face is stormy with anger.
“The fuck?” he rasps. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
