by Alice Ward
“I’ve one last proposal to share with you, and before you jump down my throat or threaten my life, I want you to hear me out.” Her head lilted forward, and she held up her hand. I immediately knew she’d drawn a truce.
Whatever was coming next wasn’t her doing, maybe none of it was. She didn’t have any more choices than I did. I always forgot that.
“I’m listening.” I rolled my head on my shoulders, stretching out the tight muscles.
“Jack Marshall has made another offer for you tonight.” She paused, and since I didn’t raise an objection right away, continued, talking faster the more she got out. “I know what your answer is going to be and how you feel about his offer.”
“I—”
She held up a hand. “Before you refuse again, I want you to listen. When Harmon and I started dating, he wanted to… I don’t know, see if I could survive in this environment, test me out. Since Jack is part owner of the club, and he and Harmon are good friends, they thought, you know, it’d be a good next step in our relationship.”
“Bran—”
She kept going. “Jack met me with a bottle of Cristal, wearing a bathrobe in one of our pleasure rooms. That was the first time. I’ve had sex with him on several occasions. He’s not into crazy kinky stuff, no ass play, no toes, just kiss a little, get him going, and let him do his thing.”
“I’m—”
Tears welled in her eyes. “He gets off in about nine minutes. His dick’s so small you won’t even know it’s there. Do you know how much he paid for me?”
Brandy never cried. Ever. And although they hadn’t fallen yet, the gleam of them softened me. “Brandy, I’m really sorry Harmon did that to you, but you know I’ve never liked him.”
Maybe this was her cry for help. Maybe that’s what this was about.
The tears in her reddening eyes threatened to spill over, but she held them back. “I didn’t ask if you liked Harmon, I want you to know how much Jack Marshall paid for me to have sex with him.”
“I-I don’t know.”
“He gave me a pair of red Jimmy Choos his wife couldn’t wear because she was pregnant, and her feet were too swollen. Do you know how much he’s offered for you this time?” She sniffed hard and made her face carefully blank again, but I knew she was hanging on a thin wire of shame, disappointment, and regret.
“I don’t care. I—”
“One million dollars, and Harmon wants to sweeten the deal with an increase in the fifteen percent payout to thirty if delivered tonight. That’s three hundred thousand tax-free dollars you can put in your bank account tonight after fucking a man for twenty minutes. Even Gina’s pussy has never come close to this. Million-dollar girls don’t come around that often, Adara. This is like the Grammy Awards—”
I lifted a finger. “It’s Mona. And don’t go there. Don’t you dare.” I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to relax. “Listen, Brandy, I’m sorry the man you love pimped you out for a fucking bottle of champagne and a pair of shoes. That tells you something.” I was keeping my tone measured and precise, my eyes never leaving hers. “Here’s my answer to your offers. You can tell Mr. Marshall that he can take his tiny dick and shove it into his wife, where it belongs. As far as the other gentleman goes, I will meet with him, but this is a one-time thing.”
I was done with the conversation, and Brandy knew it.
Brandy stared at me. Was it jealousy I saw hiding behind her world-weary eyes? “You won’t be young and talented forever. Think about the future.”
I wasn’t sure what she had to be jealous of. I stood, my shock probably evident on my face. “I think about my future every day.”
The muscle popped her jaw. “Oh, come on, Mona. If I don’t slap you back to reality, who will?”
Reality. Like I needed a reminder.
I pulled on a pair of black wool pants to hide my brace and a silk blouse that nicely accented my curves but didn’t give away the farm — mostly so I wouldn’t resemble any of the Jewels. So I’d look different. “I’m ready.”
“Don’t be mad,” Brandy said softly, her hand moving to my shoulder. “You have to forget about your past, not just run away from it. You got lucky. The poor foster kid who became a famous rock star. It all died with Nate, sweetie, and now the world’s moved on.”
“Bran—”
Her hand began to stroke my upper arm, a comforting gesture to soften the words. “One fuck for a mil won’t change anything, but it sure will give you some financial freedom. You don’t want to be chained to Jewel until you’re so old you have to sell yourself to the fetish crowd, do you? It’s only one night.”
Even though she spoke with care and concern shining in her eyes, Brandy’s diatribe had my spine stiffening, turning me as cold as an icicle. Who was this blonde bombshell standing in front of me? I must have been wrong. We weren’t friends, didn’t share a bond like sisters.
I willed the cold to creep in deeper… deeper… until I couldn’t feel the stab of pain in my heart. Raising my chin, I said in my haughty I’m-a-star-you’re-a-peon voice, “Please let the communication-only client know I’ve accepted, on the condition there will be no touching. And, Brandy, don’t ever ask me to sell myself again.”
Never one to be embarrassed, Brandy’s face flushed as she turned to leave the room. “I’ll let the house know.”
I shivered as the door closed behind her. Jack owned part of this club. If the owners of Jewel decided my safety was no longer a priority, there would be nothing I could do to stop them.
Had Brandy pulled me out of my personal hell, only to deliver me to another one?
CHAPTER SIX
Roman
The hostess escorted me to the pleasure rooms with a few of the other men, each following their own elegantly dressed guide. Duk had already left for the rooms to be with his choice for the evening.
I hated that nerves made me clench my hands and created uneasy feelings in my stomach. I’d closed billion-dollar business deals with some of the world’s most successful businessmen, and yet my palms were slick with sweat and my heart raced as I tried to think of five appropriate questions to ask a muse.
As I entered the pleasure room that was to be mine and the Butterfly’s, the hostess offered me another scented towel, this time smelling of black licorice with a hint of lavender.
I patted the warm scent over my face, not realizing until now that I’d begun to perspire from nearly every pore. The soft, wet cloth soothed my skin and immediately put me at ease. Again, Jewel’s fine machinery at work. Most men must’ve felt like I did entering the room, either so hyper-charged with arousal they were a possible liability to the woman, or so inordinately stressed they were in need of relaxation. The aphrodisiac-scented cloth kept a man both sexually alert and calm.
The room had to have been prepared especially for us because it was set with two chairs at a conversational distance from one another. Each had a side table with a slate coaster and a vase of night-blooming jasmine. In the corner of the room sat a tray of caviar, fruits, and cheeses.
The hostess prepared me a chilled glass of water spiked with cucumber and another containing Grey Goose on the rocks, my usual drink. I turned to study a hand-painted Japanese partition that separated a bedroom area with a king-sized bed from the sitting area. Even from a distance, I knew the Egyptian cotton coverlet was of the highest thread count. The Jewel was ready for anything.
I tried my best to train my thoughts away from the intoxications provided and focus on getting to know their elusive headliner.
“Is there anything else I can get you before your appointment arrives?” the hostess asked, still wearing a facade of perfect servitude.
“I’m quite comfortable, thank you.” I watched her face relax into a soft smile.
She reached into her pocket and produced the latest model iPhone, its slim black case shimmering in the low lighting.
“Should you need anything else, Mr. Wellington,” she placed the phone on the side table, “just tap
‘call’ on this phone and I will be here to provide you with whatever you might require. Any and all transactions can be made through me or the Jewel app on this phone, as long as both parties are in agreement. No transaction will be final without both parties signing. However, anything can and will be arranged as requested.”
I nodded, and she bowed before leaving the room.
So, I could fuck the ethereal diva if she signed her consent. When my mind leapt on the idea, I turned it by focusing on the business part of it. Interesting bit of information the hostess had tossed out. Not that I planned on making use of it, but the level of discretion a private phone in a private room offered had to be inviting to patrons.
I stayed standing and took a sip of cold water to stabilize my raging nerves and dilute the bourbon of earlier. I couldn’t remember being so intensely affected by anyone in my life.
The door opened again, and the room emptied of air as she entered, still wearing a dark mask that spread across the planes of her face like butterfly wings. I’d expected to see her face in this room. Curiosity created a tension in my chest, making me want to act totally out of character, urging me to stride to her and rip it from her head.
But she seemed so fragile. Her long, dark hair danced about her face, and she wore a shear black blouse with a camisole underneath. In the dim candlelight-like light, with strands of red shimmering, she was more beautiful than I remembered.
As she breezed into the room, I noticed she still had a slight limp, but her leg was effectively concealed by a pair of wide, wool pants. She was dressed surprisingly modest for Jewel, which intrigued me more.
Unable to trust my voice, I motioned for her to take a seat. She drew a quick breath in as if expelling nerves and took the seat across from mine.
“Good evening, Mr. Wellington.” Her voice slid over the words like silk, practically buckling my knees.
Her presence was magnetic, and my pants tightened as my cock swelled, my brain suddenly focused on only two things: her and the bed just a few feet from us.
I inhaled. Exhaled. Wondered why I felt like I’d been hypnotized by her.
All she’d done was enter the room and say my name, and all the oxygen was sputtering out of my lungs, my dick taking over. I was one of the most successful men in the world and was letting a performer at a brothel unravel me. I had to get command of my senses.
But she had an unmistakable air about her. She electrified the space with her incredible presence.
And she was waiting for me to speak.
“Good evening, Miss…” I paused, unsure of what name to use. Butterfly seemed too contrived. I wasn’t a sex-starved businessman looking for a fling. I didn’t need a “butterfly” to make me hot, and I wasn’t looking for a gimmick. I could have women lined up if I wanted, and all I’d have to buy was a drink. I cleared my throat as I sat straighter in the chair. “How should I address you?” I intentionally set my focus on her eyes, hoping to bore out the truth with the intensity of my gaze.
“Please call me Mona. Mona Arc.” Her dark blue-green eyes met mine, blinking twice, then lowered to the floor.
So, not her real name. Mona Arc. Monarch. Butterfly. Of course. The businessman in me wanted to be insulted by the obvious play on words, which was so unsubtle as if to suggest stupidity.
Play the game, Roman.
“I’ve never done this before. I’m not the kind of man who needs to purchase a woman.” I didn’t know why exactly, but I needed to put that out there. “No insult intended.”
“You haven’t purchased me, Mr. Wellington. You’ve paid for my time and five questions.” She sank more deeply into her chair and took a sip of water, her eyes remaining on mine through the slits of the mask.
Suddenly, I had the bizarre feeling one got in a shrink’s office — like she already knew everything I would say and was just waiting for me to say it.
“Shall we get started?” she asked casually, crossing her good leg over the one she favored.
She was a confident woman, undaunted by the strangeness of this affair. I mirrored her actions and relaxed further into my chair. She took another drink of water, and her eyes lingered on mine for a bit longer than politeness tolerated.
“Shall I begin with the first question?” I asked, my mouth feeling dry and useless. I took a healthy drink of the vodka.
“My question first, then you’ll have a chance to respond and ask your own.” Her voice lilted as she spoke with a soft inflection.
I nodded. She would set the tone with the first question. She was beautiful and smart. I reminded myself of the power I knew I brought to the table. I couldn’t let her see that her mysterious poise caused an involuntary reflex in me, making my cock stab forward, growing larger every second those dream deep eyes watched me. I cradled the Grey Goose as I shifted to find a more comfortable position.
“If you’re so unaccustomed to purchasing time with women, why did you contract me this evening, Mr. Wellington?” Her eyes both invited and accused. “Question one,” she added like a seductive game show host.
“When you fell in the rain, I felt a strange magnetism between us. I wanted to explore that.” The words had just come out of me. From the look on her face, they surprised her as much as they did me.
“I see.” She took a sip of water and bit her lower lip, her lip gloss shining in the dim light. “The next question is yours, Mr. Wellington.”
My heart sped up as I navigated my thoughts away from her mouth and cleared my throat again. I shifted slightly to make room for my dick, which was now painfully hard and uncomfortable as it pressed against the zipper of my pants.
Images flashed through my head of myself sweeping her out of the chair and onto the bed behind us. I wouldn’t even bother to strip away her mask before I removed her trousers and sank deep inside her sweet body.
I ripped myself out of the fantasy, the tension in the room mounting as I composed myself enough to ask the first question. There was no denying the sexual energy building between us.
“Why do you work at a place like Jewel? A woman of your talent could find employment elsewhere.” I knew the question had an element of insult, but I had to regain my footing, as her mere presence had me feeling off-center.
“Not a very creative question, Mr. Wellington. Why does anyone work anywhere?” Her answer was short and obscure, very much like the woman herself.
I frowned, dissatisfied with her audacious attitude. This might’ve been her game, saying absolutely nothing of any consequence as her non-name suggested, but she wouldn’t play it with me. Surely, I could disapprove of her opaque answer after paying such an exorbitant price for five questions.
“Not a very insightful answer. I might remind you, I’m paying a good deal of money to talk with you. I’m not paying for you to pretend you’re not in there.” My eyes roamed her body intentionally, as if to insinuate a more pressing motive for our time together.
Her mouth, rounded like a rosebud, turned downward into an almost imperceptible pout. She had a sculpted chin and elegant neckline. Her eyes sparkled, showing her intelligence, while the mask did an excellent job of concealing the rest of her features. Because she didn’t bare much of herself, what was revealed titillated.
“I’m aware of the amount you’ve paid. I assure you, you’ll get your money’s worth.” Her eyes caught mine, thwarting their next journey down her body. “It’s my turn. Who was the first woman you ever loved? Question two.” A smiled crossed her face, a surprising expression that didn’t quite match the sorrow in her eyes.
The truth would take us down an awkward path, so my answer was brief. “My mother. To date, no other woman has captured my heart.” It was my turn to play at elusive.
“A man then?” Her smile turned to a smirk, thinking she’d caught me in a confession.
“No man either.” I took another sip of my drink. “And that’s too many questions.”
She leaned forward just a fraction. “Perhaps a seminary is where you shoul
d be divesting your interest,” she suggested, taunting me.
I mirrored her actions, bringing us marginally closer. “I have no intention of wasting away, suppressing my sexual desires. I haven’t given a woman my heart. I didn’t say women haven’t given me theirs.” My voice sliced through the air, more caustic than I intended. “I didn’t pay to fuck you because I don’t have to. When and if I ever find a woman worthy of my love, she won’t be a purchase on my Amex.”
While we’d been ignoring the evidence of my physical arousal, I made my condition perfectly clear as I unfolded my legs, my cock jutting forward, straining the fabric of my pants. To let her know I was much more a man than she’d insinuated.
“I believe it’s your turn.” Her response was wry as her gaze unwittingly drifted to the evidence of my manhood. She swallowed hard, her interest in my swollen member obvious.
I smiled and allowed a short laugh to escape my lips, letting her know I was enjoying myself immensely.
She returned the laughter, and our exchange defused some of the sexual intensity between us.
“Has any man or woman ever captured your heart?” I crossed one leg over the other, partially hiding my bulge, showing the restraint I was capable of. Silence so deep filled the room that I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest.
Was it the lighting or was there a thin sheen of sweat on what showed of her forehead? “There was a man at one time who consumed my every heartbeat. But he no longer exists. I, like you, haven’t, nor probably ever will, find that kind of love again. No man has proven himself worthy.” Her eyes drifted downward again, resting on my tented erection, making her point obvious.
“I’ll remind you that this conversation is costing me as much as a moderately priced vehicle. Why? Why would he no longer exist, and why would you deem any other so unworthy?” I felt a spike of anger rise from my stomach to my heart.
I had to hold myself back from giving her my full deal-closing approach to steal answers out of her. How dare she cast me off before she knew anything about me.
The feeling of being probed by a subtle psychiatrist returned. That was exactly what I’d been doing all these years, casting off women at the first sign of greed or avarice.
