The Client: A Playing Dirty Novel

by Pamela DuMond

  “Wrong. I’ll walk away from you. Never flirt with you again. Never impersonate an Italian stripper. You’ll miss Marco when he’s gone.”

  I flushed, warmth emanating from my pores. Maybe it was the scotch. I fanned my face but he captured my hand and held onto it.

  “I’ll never kiss you or push my hand inside your panties just because I’m wondering if you’re as turned on as I am.” He reached up under my blouse, rubbed his hand on top of my bra, until his fingers reached the front clasp and unhooked it. My breath quickened. “I’ll never watch you tilt your head back, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’, your eyes fluttering shut when you come so hard all you can do is repeat my name, like a prayer, when I fuck you on top of a desk.”

  My nipples pebbled as he played with them, tugging and pinching. I moaned, grasped his hand, and pushed it lower down my stomach. “We had sex on a hospital bed. We never had sex on a desk.”

  “How have we missed that?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Take off your shirt.”

  I shrugged out of it and tossed it to the floor along with my bra.

  “Ah.’ His eyes lit up. He rubbed his thumb across my nipple and bent his lips to my breast. He drew it into his mouth. Sucking. Nibbling. Licking.

  All the hairs on the back of my arms rose as deliciousness coursed through my veins.

  “I will never worship your beautiful tits again, Charlotte.” He unzipped my skirt, tugged it down over my hips, and it slid down my calves. He ran his fingers down the vee between my legs, going lower and lower toward my pussy, caressing my center through my panties. His fingers brushed close to my clit, until I feared I would explode in a haze of want, nerves, and desire.

  Enough.

  I pushed back at him with both hands. “I’m not some stupid chick you can tease. I’m not a silly little girl for you to play with.”

  “I know. Otherwise I would have seduced you in the library. I never would have brought you to my apartment.” He leaned in and kissed me. The heat grew between us. He claimed my lower lip with his teeth.

  I grabbed his ass and pulled him toward me. His hard, thick, cock throbbed against my pelvis.

  “You’re not just a library girl to me, Charlotte. You’re more.”

  I wasn’t supposed to be here with him. He was off limits. But why did something so wrong feel so right? I was more than ready to find out. “Marco,” I said, kicking off my skirt. I stood before him wearing only my black lace thong and heels.

  “Ah.” His eyes lit up like he’d seen his first July 4th fireworks. “Mine, mine, mine,” he said, taking a slug of scotch and pulling a condom out of his pocket. “Bedroom. Now.”

  “Who’s the matchmaker?” I asked. I lifted myself up, and sat on his fancy, desk.

  “You.”

  “That’s right. I say when this match goes down. But first I want to see your big, beautiful, hard cock.” I lifted my feet up, leaned back on my elbows, and spread my knees. I felt the polished smoothness of the heavy lacquered wood under my elbows and ass. I could see the twinkle of city lights, but I didn’t really care.

  Because Joe was stripping.

  Within seconds his shirt was off. I slid my tongue over my lips. Good God, he was ripped. His six pack abs practically begged to be licked. Then he took off his pants and boxers, his hard dick slapping his lower stomach. He stood before me tall and gorgeous, his eyes dark with lust, his erection thick. “You’re so hot, Charlotte.”

  “You’re hotter. First make me come without your cock.” I gazed up into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Then fuck me hard and deep until I scream your name.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Joe

  My face was buried between Charlotte’s legs, my tongue dipping into her sweet pussy. I glanced up at her spread open on her back on my smooth wooden desk, arms stretched overhead. I blinked and burned that image into my brain. Paperwork would never be boring again.

  I scraped the scruff of my beard back and forth across her clit, nuzzling her center. She squirmed, twisted her hips upward, and her breath grew ragged.

  “Oh,” she rasped. “Oh, Joe, don’t stop.” I reached a hand up to her gorgeous tits, cupping them, playing with one nipple, then tweaking the other until they both hardened. I dropped my hands to her thighs and pulled her down toward me so she couldn’t get away. I worshipped her clit with my mouth, my teeth, my lips, tormenting it in just the right rhythm. The perfect dance. Licking. Scraping. Sucking.

  She arched her back. “Fuck. So good, Joe. So...” She pushed her heels into the top of the desk and tilted her head back. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her mouth formed a beautiful O as her body convulsed in ecstasy.

  I licked her pussy a bit longer then slipped two fingers inside her. She was so wet. So tight. And I was so hard I was ready to explode. “There’s another orgasm waiting for you, Cupcake.”

  She pushed herself to sitting and smiled. “You first. I insist.”

  I held my hands out and helped her stand. She leaned back against the desk.

  I reached for the condom, sliding it onto my rock hard dick. “Legs wider.”

  She took a broader stance, and wiggled her hips side to side. “How’s this? Will this do?”

  “Smartass.” I held onto her shoulder and kissed her, rubbing my cock against her wetness. Then I slid inside her. She was just as tight as I remembered. So good.

  “Hot Waiter,” she groaned. “You’ve got the best cock. Fuck me hard.”

  “You sure? You’re tight, Cupcake.”

  “I’m as wet as I’ll get and I’m horny for you.”

  I took her with everything I had. I pumped into that sweet pussy clenched around my dick. I cupped Charlotte’s tits, fondling them. I trailed kisses down her neck, then bit the sexy part where it moved into her collarbone.

  “Fuck me harder,” she moaned.

  I placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled out of her slowly. “Turn around. Bend over.”

  She swiveled.

  “Spread your legs.” I pressed my dick against her ass cheeks and placed my hands on her hips, angling that gorgeous ass up toward my cock. Then I slipped back inside her, burying myself deep.

  “Oh,” she said. “So good.”

  I fucked her hard, just what she asked for, just what I wanted. I felt my entire length caressed by her heat, her tight center, until I didn’t think I could hold on any longer.

  “So good, Joe. You’re so fucking hot.”

  I held her tighter, my abdomen and chest pressed up against her back and exploded in her. Spasms racked my body and waves of pleasure rippled through me.

  This woman was killing me.

  I cracked eggs in the skillet and chopped scallions on the wooden board. “It’s Saturday,” I said, “Let’s go see a movie.”

  Charlotte sat on a bar stool by the granite countertop wearing one of my white dress shirts. Damn, if it didn’t look better on her than me. “We could go see that new spy flick,” she said.

  “It didn’t get great reviews on Rotten Tomatoes. What about the British war movie?”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “Benedict! Oh my God. I totally forgot to feed Benedict. I’m a horrible cat mom. He’s probably been staring at his food bowl for hours.” She jumped off the chair.

  “When’s the last time he ate?”

  “Wet food was before I went to your Grandma’s party last night.” She stripped off my shirt, giving me a glimpse of her delicious tits. She grabbed her top, yanked it on, and then pulled on her skirt.

  I picked up my shirt and buttoned it over my jeans. “I bet he survived.”

  “He probably thinks something terrible happened to me. Where’s my coat? I’ve got to go!”

  I pulled it from the hall closet and helped her on with it.

  “Thanks for a lovely time.”

  I grabbed my parka. “I’m coming with you.”

  I was inside Charlotte’s third floor walk-up apartment for the first time. It was small and cute. Red and white dis
h towels hung from the rung on her stove. An Erin Brockovich movie poster graced the wall. Benedict scarfed down wet food as Charlotte filled his water bowl then placed it on the floor. “He’s traumatized,” she said.

  “He looks okay to me.”

  “You don’t know him the way I do. He never eats when I’m in the room with him. He’s clearly upset that I was gone so long.” She walked into her living room and I followed, her cat on my heels.

  “Disagree.”

  Benedict licked his paw, groomed his whiskers, then stared up at me and blinked. I reached down and rubbed his ears. He ignored me for a few moments, then narrowed his eyes and purred.

  “We’re good,” I said.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” Charlotte folded the blanket on the side of the couch. She lifted the pillows, plumped them, and placed them back on the sofa in different angles.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Now you know how I live. It’s not Saks. It barely qualifies as Pottery Barn.”

  I surveyed the place. A small, decorated Christmas tree sat in the corner of the living room, a star on top. Framed pictures of Charlotte next to a middle-aged woman and a young woman who resembled her were assembled on the shelves of the chunky TV cabinet. Stockings hung from decorative ornament holders positioned on top of the cabinet. “Charlotte” was embroidered on the red one. “Benedict” on the green.

  “I totally understand if you want to pull out of the deal. Cancel the matchmaking contract,” she said. “Seriously, who’s going to trust someone like me to pull off a match for Joe Delacroix. What was your grandmother thinking? I wouldn’t want to trust that job to someone who lives in a freaking hovel on Chicago’s Southside.”

  “What happened to you? You’re sure of yourself one second, you’re insecure the next. Someone or something undermined you. Made you feel awful. And you bought into it or you wouldn’t say stuff like this.”

  She stopped straightening up and stared at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not born feeling this bad about yourself. Plenty of people live in tiny places. Plenty of people squeak by month to month. I’m not one of them. God saw fit to grant me different demons. What happened to you?”

  She bit her lip, looking down. “I don’t talk about it.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope,” she said.

  “Okay.” Benedict wove around my feet meowing. “What do we have planned for today?”

  “I have client paperwork, laundry, and house cleaning.”

  “We’re still knee deep in my client emergency.”

  “Your ‘emergency’ was last night.”

  My stomach growled loudly. “Breakfast. Let’s go out to eat. Besides, you made a deal. You promised to handle my client 911 until I meet the miraculous Violin next week.”

  “Violet,” she said. “Fine. Give me a few to shower and change.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Charlotte

  12 months ago

  I sat across from my mom at Ethel’s Diner, a little hole in the wall in Oconomowoc that she’d been taking me and Callie to for years. A vintage Coca Cola clock hung on the wall next to a chalkboard featuring the daily specials. The café’s owners were a decade or so older than me, but wore vintage-style clothes. It was as if we’d time traveled back to the fifties. “How are things going?” I asked.

  “Obviously we miss you,” Mom said. “I can pry Callie out of your bedroom, you know, should you get the urge to move back in.”

  “Nah.” I slurped my milkshake through a straw. “It’s her room now. What’s the big news?”

  Mom casually fanned her left hand in front of my face. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  I spotted the modest diamond ring on her fourth finger and squealed. “You’re engaged?”

  She beamed and nodded. “Can you believe it? We agreed to just live together for a few years, then all of a sudden, one night he gets down on one knee. I was, ‘What are you doing?’ And he said that he wanted to make it official. Asked me to marry him. Make him the second happiest man in the world. I said yes.”

  “That’s fabulous!” I regarded her quizzically. “Who’s the first?”

  “Some asshat friend of his who won the Powerball a few years ago.”

  I clapped my hands. “Mom. I’m so excited for you!”

  She waggled her fingers and looked at her small, round cut diamond ring with pride. “Who knew after all these years that Mr. Right could come along? I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, flashing back to Ryan and the other night. I drove us home after that horrifying incident, left him passed out in the car in the driveway, and took the keys. I strode inside the house, slammed the door, and turned the bolt. I didn’t know if I was scared or angry. Then it dawned on me that shock had won the day.

  I glanced at the mirror on the wall. My cheek was already swelling, shadowy colors blending into dusky hues. I walked into the kitchen to get some ice when I remembered the spare set of house keys in the fake rock in to the bushes by the porch.

  Damn it.

  I tiptoed out, grabbed the stupid thing, and brought it inside. I dropped it on the hardwood floor where it landed with a hollow thunk.

  At 6 a.m. Ryan rang the bell and knocked until I stumbled to the front door. “Let me in!”

  “Fuck you,” I said from behind the deadbolt. My brain had tossed and turned the whole night, never quite letting me sink into a solid sleep. I’d gotten up a few times to refresh the ice pack on my face. I’d watched Mom do that a few times when Dad had smacked her around before he left.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “I don’t know what got into me, Char. That will never happen again. I’m so sorry. Let me in, please.”

  I unlocked the deadbolt and cracked open the door, the chain still on. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Yes,” he said. “But I’m your asshole.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.” My heart dropped. His eyes had returned to normal. Sweet. Not crazy angry. His blonde hair curled in that funky cowlick. There were a few freckles on his cheeks. In the six months we’d been together he’d wormed his way inside my head and my heart.

  I didn’t know what to believe anymore when it came to him. When it came to us. One day I was walking on solid ground, the next stumbling across the deck of a ship that swayed in a choppy harbor of uncertainty. “I’m moving out.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll help you look for a place. Let me in. Please. I have to take a leak. It’s cold out here.”

  I lifted the chain and it dropped with a tiny metallic ‘clink.’ I walked away and ignored him.

  “Thanks.” he said.

  “Whatever.” I hung out in the kitchen, and scrolled through internet rental listings looking for a new place to live.

  He kept his distance, puttering around the house until after lunch. “I’ve got to stop by my folks’ house. They’d love to see you. Then I’m hitting the new mall in Middleton for cross trainers. Want to come?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” he said, grabbing his car keys from the counter.

  “Wait. I have to pick up a file at work. Could we stop there on the way?”

  “Sure, babe.”

  “Give me a minute.” I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I could barely see the bruise. It almost looked like a sunburn. I dabbed on extra concealer.

  We swung by my work where I grabbed the files, then dropped by his folks for a quick coffee and chat.

  “You’re joining us for Thanksgiving this year, right Charlotte?” his mom asked. “We put on quite a spread.” She poured me a cup of coffee and placed it in front of me on the long, wooden kitchen table. Her kitchen window overlooked a deep yellowing lawn ending at Lake Mendota.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip. “Sweet of you to ask. I promised Mom I’d spend the holiday with her.”

  “Offer stands. We’d love for you to
join us,” she said, ripping open a packet of sweetener and adding it to her coffee. “Ryan’s a good boy, you know. He means well. One mistake shouldn’t define a person.”

  “Right,” I said, wondering if he’d told his mom what happened.

  We found the runners Ryan wanted at a sporting goods store in the new mall and then walked around the place. He bought me a pair of jeans and a pretty pair of earrings. I glanced in the department store mirror when I put them on and could barely see my bruise.

  A few hours of shopping, a steak and lobster meal at a decent restaurant, and ten apologies later, I decided to put it all behind me. It was a one-time thing. Ryan was a sensitive man. His parents were kind, smart, caring. They were pillars of the community.

  “Earth to Charlotte,” mom said, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Did you hear me? I’m hoping you and Callie will be at my wedding. We’ll pick a day and go the courthouse.”

  I needed a distraction. And—bam—it hit me.

  “Mom,” I said. “I’ll plan your wedding!”

  “Nah.” She waved her hand. “I can’t afford that.”

  “Seriously, let me do this.” I grabbed her hand. “We’ll keep it on the cheapy-cheap. Buy flowers off the bloom. Rent a gown. Borrow a venue.”

  “Can I keep the husband?” she asked.

  “Yes! This will be so much fun!”

  “You will always be my darling daughter.” She caressed my face.

  I flinched.

  “What’s wrong? Is that a bruise on your cheek? It is. Why is your cheek bruised?”

  “You know me. I’m a klutz. Kitchen cabinet door was open, I was talking on my phone, and walked right into it,” I said, without meeting her eyes.

  “Charlotte…”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

  “I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” I said with all my heart as I lied through my teeth.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Joe

  Charlotte’s bedroom was feminine without being over the top girlie. I grabbed the stuffed Koala from her blue quilted bedspread. “Sorry, buddy.” I tossed him in the corner and lay back on her bed as I checked my phone.