by Sky Corgan
“No, I'm sorry.” She quickly recovers. “I shouldn't have assumed that no one would be out here. Do you know where James...I mean Mister Sumner is?”
There's something incredibly nervous about her. She seems lost. Out of place.
“He's in the orgy room?” I nod toward the balcony door.
“The orgy room,” she parrots back as if the term is foreign to her.
Apprehensively, she takes a few steps towards the door. Then she stops, glancing back at me and wrapping her arms around herself. “You wouldn't mind if I stayed out here a bit longer, would you?”
“Not ready to join the fun yet?” I tease.
“No. That's not it.” She shakes her head before returning to the railing. “I've just never done a party like this before.”
“You and me both.” My eyes widen for effect, and I take a drink of my cocktail. The whiskey burns the back of my throat, but it's a good kind of burn, keeping my insides warm.
I expect her to say something else, but she doesn't. She just stares out into the distance. She's not like the other girls. Not socially polished.
“What's your name?” she asks.
I beam in amusement at the realization that she has no clue who I am. This is a rarity. Perhaps she doesn't recognize me in the dim light. Might as well have some fun with it.
“Brodie,” I tell her. “Brodie Grant.” It's my character's name from Master of Payback. If she's into movie news, she might pick up on the reference.
“I'm Alexis,” she responds politely.
“Alexis. Pretty name.” I take another sip of my drink, feeling the heat traveling further down. Just looking at her is turning me on. She's so perfect. Her dress hugs her ass, and the way the top hangs off of her leaves much to the imagination about what's underneath.
“Thanks,” she replies dryly.
“So, Alexis, how long have you been in the business?”
She looks down at the wooden railing and traces it with a fingernail. “I'm not sure if I'm supposed to disclose that kind of information.”
“So you're a long time veteran.” I don't have to be an expert on escorts to tell that she's new at this.
“I wouldn't say that.” She tilts her head slightly before resting her forearms on the railing and leaning forward.
Making her squirm is fun, but it also makes me feel a bit guilty. I imagine that being an escort is a difficult job, giving yourself away to different men, most of which you're probably not interested in. She looks nervous as hell, and she hasn't gone back with John and James yet, which means she's hesitating.
“You've never done this before, have you?” It's a bold assumption, but somehow I feel it's worth throwing out there. If I'm wrong, then I'll just look like an idiot.
She sighs and her shoulders slump. For a moment, I don't think she's going to answer, but then she says, “Is it really that obvious?”
Apparently my people reading skills haven't waned over the years. To be honest, it was a shot in the dark, but I'm kind of glad that I'm right. It makes her seem more real to me. Untainted by a deadening job. She's not faking anything. Not yet, at least. That's refreshing.
“Kinda.” I shrug nonchalantly. “So what made you decide to get into this line of work?”
“Why does anyone get into it? Money.”
“Ah, yes. Everyone wants money.” I drain the rest of my drink, thinking about how hard I worked in the beginning, wanting to drag myself out of a life of poverty.
I glance over at her, trying to discern her age. She looks young. Early twenties maybe. Just starting out in life, trying to carve her own path. This shouldn't be the way that anyone has to do it.
“Well.” She slaps her hands against the railing, her lips thinning into a line. “I guess I should go do my job. I'm late as it is. That won't earn me any brownie points.”
There's a tightness in my chest as I think about her leaving. I can't tell if it's guilt or jealousy.
“I'm one of the clients, you know.” I stare down at the ice in my glass, not exactly sure where I want to go with this.
“I kind of figured, since you're not James.” She turns from the railing, hugging herself. The wind whips her shawl around her shoulders, and I catch a whiff of the floral perfume she's wearing. It makes my cock twitch, and I clench my teeth, willing my body not to get turned on though that's never worked before.
“It's awfully lonely out here on this balcony.” I can hardly believe how sleazy I sound. The need for perversions is plain in my voice. Like the swelling in my pants, I can't seem to control it.
She looks at me, a deadpan expression stilling her beautiful face for a moment before her eyes go hooded. This is where the acting begins, the part of her I was hoping I wouldn't have to see. It's too late for it to be believable though. “What would you like for me to do, Mister Grant?”
“You could start by getting me another drink.” I hold my glass out to her. “Crown and coke. Light on the Crown. Heavy on the coke.” Usually I prefer it the other way around, but the stirrings I'm getting are a good indication that it's time to take things slow, lest I end up buried between her thighs before the end of the night.
“Certainly.” She saunters over to me, one long leg in front of the other. Her fingers brush mine as she takes the glass from my hand, making my heart skip a beat. Dear God, do I ever want her. How am I going to survive the night without allowing myself to be inside of her?
PEPPER
Vipers are everywhere. It's like stepping in front of a rock and not knowing that one is curled up behind it, waiting to strike. I never would have walked out onto the balcony had I known he was here. Then again, this is the fate that I chose for myself, so it's natural that this would be the end result. You can't walk into a predator's den without expecting to encounter some predators.
I try to steady my rapidly beating heart as I make his drink at a snail's pace. Brodie Grant. He's attractive enough though it's kind of hard to tell in the dim light on the balcony. Tall and lean, with slicked back hair cut short on the sides. There's a rugged handsomeness about him but a roughness around the edges.
It could be worse. It could be a lot worse.
If the party has already started though, then why isn't he a part of it? It's a curious thought, and one that makes me think he might be lying about being a client. In truth, I have no idea what's going on here. I don't know if it's just James and the clients or if James invites his friends over too. Maybe I should go ask James instead of assuming. Brodie certainly doesn't look wealthy, dressed down in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt. Both of his arms are sleeved out, though I can't make out his tattoos with the lack of decent lighting and the distance between us.
I stick a cocktail straw in his drink and stir it absentmindedly, debating my next move. If I go find James, I'll more than likely be dragged into whatever is going on in the orgy room. I really don't want that. But if I choose to trust Brodie, then I'll definitely lose my job if he's lying and isn't really a client. What are the odds that he's not though?
It takes everything in me to keep from clawing at my hair. I hate being confused like this. Why couldn't everyone have just socialized for a while first? That would have given me a chance to arrive, albeit late, and settle into things. Nothing is ever that easy for me though. Nothing ever goes right.
I follow the path of least resistance, picking up the lowball glass and taking it back out to the balcony to deliver it to my potential fuck for the night. Judging by the way he's been looking at me, there's more than just a little potential. I wonder if we're going to do it on the balcony. That would be kinky though it's definitely not something I should be getting excited about.
“Here you go, sir.” I hand the glass over to him. Our eyes meet, and I sense that I've seen him somewhere before. The name Brodie Grant doesn't register though, so I brush the feeling off.
Up close, I realize that he's more attractive than I first thought. He looks at me without malice or judgment. I'm not so sure
why I expected to be judged. He did come here for sex after all, and I came here to provide it. That makes us both indecent on a similar level.
“Thank you,” he says politely, turning his attention to the drink as he smiles shyly.
“What would you have of me now, Mister Grant?” I step in a bit closer, placing my hand on his arm. He jerks from my touch.
“Your company is all I seek tonight.” His tongue quickly darts out to trace his bottom lip before he takes a drink, pulling away from me to face the railing.
For a moment, I'm taken aback by his...rejection? He did just reject me, right?
I try not to look too befuddled as I lean on the railing beside him, so close that our arms are touching. He scoots over an inch, putting space between us. My heart sinks, but I don't know why. Perhaps because I'm not used to being rejected by men. The fact that he paid to be with me makes it all the more painful.
“How's your drink?” I ask.
“It's good. Perfect.” He lets out a little cough.
Now I know he's lying. To be honest, I wasn't paying much attention when I made it. He wanted it heavy on the coke and I went heavy on the alcohol instead, mixing it as if I were the one about to drink it. I sure wish I could be drinking it.
“If you don't like it, I'll make you another.”
“No, it's fine.” He turns the glass in his hands, seemingly avoiding my gaze.
“So what brings you to town, Mister Grant?” I decide to give up on seducing him and just make idle conversation instead. If he wants me, he knows what to do. It's not like I'm going to resist.
“Business.”
“What kind of business?”
“I'd rather not say.” He takes another sip.
It's amusing how nervous he looks, like I've cornered him. I suppose most clients don't disclose a lot of details about themselves for confidentiality's sake. Perhaps I shouldn't even be asking these questions. I don't know what else to say though.
Having run out of ideas, I just stand there. As long as I'm not spread out on a bed with a cock in each of my holes and ten other girls around me, I'm happy. This certainly isn't the night I had in mind. It's far better, even if it still kind of sucks. I can't hope that this will last though. I'm not being paid to chat with the clients; I'm being paid to sleep with them. Eventually, I'll have to carry out that task, with this guy or someone else. I can't hide from James forever.
“It's going to be a long night,” I mumble to myself.
“What's that?” Brodie looks over at me.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, then decide to continue anyway. “I was just thinking that whenever James comes out of wherever he is, he's probably going to make me join the other girls.”
“Not if I'm keeping you occupied.”
“You're not keeping me occupied though.” I fight the urge to raise my eyebrow at him.
“We're talking. That's keeping you occupied.”
“That's not the kind of occupied I get paid for.” I hate that it sounds like I'm pressuring him for sex. I don't really want to have sex with him though it would be better than the alternative.
His jaw sets as he stares at the railing for a moment. Then he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, how about we get out of here?”
“Get out of here? Like, run away?”
“No,” he laughs. “Like how about I take you back to my hotel.”
“You'd have to ask James first. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to leave.” Leaving here would be a godsend, but I don't want to get my hopes up.
“Of course you are.” He glances at me as if the notion that he wouldn't be able to spirit me away is preposterous. It's the first time I've noticed any sense of entitlement coming from him. “I'm the client. I highly doubt he'd refuse my request.”
“You can ask him, then.” I shrug, feeling bad that I seem indifferent about it, but not really sure how else to react.
“Alright then, I will.” He chugs the rest of his drink and slams his glass down on the railing a bit too hard. I jump slightly from the sound of it hitting the wood.
Brodie walks into the house. I stare at his back absentmindedly, then my eyes drift down to his ass as soon as the light hits him. His jeans hug his body perfectly. Maybe sleeping with him wouldn't be so bad after all.
I stand there, watching until he turns the corner to go down the hall. My mind is a jumbled mess of confusion and nerves and excitement. Would James really let me leave the party without getting 'broken in'? It doesn't seem likely. And there's still the fact that I don't trust that Brodie is actually a client.
That thought spurs me to tail him. My heart pounds as I find my way to the hallway, following the sound of music to an open door. Multicolored lights flash on the opposite wall like something out of a club. Inside, I can hear girls giggling and talking and moaning. Just approaching the room makes my stomach churn, makes me want to turn around and run away. I have to keep going though. If Brodie isn't in there, I'll know he was lying to me.
I take a deep breath as I prepare to step into James' crosshairs. If Brodie isn't in there, and James sees me, I'll be fucked for sure. In a very literal sense.
I muster up all of my courage and turn the corner, running face first into a wall of muscle. The smell of masculine cologne fills my nostrils, and then my eyes dart up to the visage of the man in front of me. Relief floods my chest as I realize it's Brodie. He places his hands on my shoulders, backing me out of the room.
I sneak a glance behind him just in time to see all the horrors I feared. There's a man lying on a bed surrounded by gorgeous women. One is riding him, and I'm thankful that I don't see the front view. Two more are at his sides, kissing and touching him.
James is sitting naked in a chair in the corner. A girl is on her knees between his legs, blowing him. Another is standing behind him, massaging his shoulders. He notices me long enough to give me an approving nod before a look of pleasure contorts his mouth into an O.
The room is littered with naked women. All of them young. All of them beautiful. Many of them with fake tits and bleach blonde hair. These girls are my competition, and it looks awfully stiff, no pun intended.
“He says I can take you away.” Brodie continues to guide me out of the room. His body is imposing as if he's trying to cover what's happening in the room from my view.
“That's good,” I reply, still recovering from what I saw. All of this is so foreign to me. I didn't think I'd have such a difficult time adjusting.
“I'm going to call us a cab.” He slips his hand into mine and leads me the rest of the way back to the living room. It's such a tender gesture that it seems misplaced.
As soon as we reach the living room, Brodie releases my hand to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. I take the opportunity to make a beeline for the bar. James seemed okay with me being here, so I'm going to take the chance and raid his alcohol stores to calm my nerves a bit. I need this. Boy, do I ever need this.
I pour a straight shot of 1800 and down it, keeping my eyes glued to Brodie's back. Since he's too busy talking on the phone to look at me, I take another. Getting tanked for my big sexual debut probably isn't the best idea, but none of this seems like a good idea right now. What in the hell was I thinking by coming here?
You need the money, Pepper. Focus on the money. Easier said than done when I suddenly feel like I'm about to go insane from being overwhelmed by a lifestyle I never pictured myself getting into.
Brodie hangs up his phone and joins me at the bar just as I'm about to take down shot number three. He grins at my hands, at the shot glass in one hand and the bottle of 1800 in the other.
“Do you want one?” I ask, suddenly feeling guilty. It must look like I'm trying to get drunk because I don't want to remember sleeping with him. Maybe that is what I'm trying to do. I don't even know anymore.
“If you're going to leave me any,” he quips.
My buzz is coming on swiftly. When Brodie looks up at me, I have to stifle a gasp.
A hint of recognition comes over me again, but that's not why I'm so stunned. He's gorgeous. I was never able to truly appreciate it in the dim light surrounding us before, but now that the bright bar lighting is shining down, illuminating his face, I realize that he's absolutely breathtaking. His eyes are a soft shade of green, his jaw square, his dirty blond hair expertly kempt. His gentle smile beneath a thin layer of stubble is so charming that I feel other parts of me heating up.
It's the alcohol, Pepper. Just the alcohol. You know what alcohol does to you. Lowers your inhibitions. I haven't had enough of it yet though. This man is truly beautiful. Why would he ever need to pay to sleep with anyone?
I remind myself that he doesn't need to pay to sleep with anyone. This is just what rich douchebags do for fun. Not because they have to, but because they can. Because they like hooking up with girls without the fear of emotions being involved. They just want a warm hole to stick their dick in, and this guy is no different.
I turn my gaze back to the bar, grabbing another shot glass to pour him a drink. Now that I'm not looking at him, the lust is quickly wearing off. He's no one to you. You're no one to him. That's going to have to be my mantra for the rest of the night to keep myself grounded.
I fill his glass to the top and then push it over to him, never allowing my eyes to lift back to his face. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to look at him when he's fucking me. For now, I just want to pretend that I don't care that I'm attracted to him.
“You're not going to have another?” He picks up the shot glass and lightly swirls the liquid within.
“I probably shouldn't.” I cap the bottle, twisting it on too tightly.
“This doesn't quite seem fair. Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Oh great, he's an arrogant prick. I should have known that just by looking at him.
“You know it,” I flirt between gritted teeth.
Brodie takes his shot, and I offer to fill up his glass again, but he holds his hand out. “No, I'm good. Want to go wait for the taxi?”
