by Jami Denise
I was running late after spending so long at the mall, so I gathered my things and sped out of the house as quickly as possible. There was a ton of traffic, typical for a Friday night, but my little race car easily swept in and out of it like a pro.
I pulled into the valet, once again greeted by a handsome young man, eager to help me out of my car.
I liked practicing on them. Putting on the Jayne mask was never a difficult task, but when men looked at me the way they did, I remembered who I was and what I was about to do. So, I gave them my smiles, put a wag in my step, and pushed forward through the casino toward Flynn.
The place was bustling with laughter and people milling around at every turn. I was confident and sure as I walked past them, knowing that every head turned my way. My heels tapped against the marble floors and then silenced as I hit the plush carpet that led to the nightclub.
It, too, was remarkable. Everything about The Maguire was lush. It reminded me that Flynn was so unbelievably different than I was. He’d grown up in excess, where I’d only had a taste of it, and it was usually while I was on my back. I had to admit that I enjoyed the high life. I craved it. Bits and pieces of it were introduced to me as a child, but as quick as we had them, they were gone again. That was the way it was, and so I learned not to get too attached to things—or people.
A hostess with a shiny uniform and a delightful smile met me at the entrance of the club, and I told her who I was and who I was there to meet. She gave me a strange smile and then had me follow her toward the back of the room. The lights were flashing, the music blaring, and not unlike most nightclubs, patrons were dancing and grinding and drinking. I’d always hated that scene. In my youth, it was all I had. My escape. I drank too much, fucked too much, and played too much. It was insane that at twenty-five, I already felt old and over it all.
As we moved closer to a table tucked away in the corner, I craned my head, looking for Flynn. I wanted a few moments to take him in before I sat down. He truly overwhelmed me, and I wanted my wits about me once I was sitting with him.
But, instead, she led me to a table hidden from the rest, and Flynn was not alone.
The blonde he’d had with him at the poker party sat next to him, her tits spilling out of her tacky halter top and her pink painted claws all over him. When he looked up and saw me, his smile was wide and mischievous. My skin positively burned. My hand was begging to smack the shit out of him and his smug, evil smile.
He was playing with me once again, and instantly my instincts went into overdrive. He may have had the looks and the money, but that man had no idea who he was messing with.
“Hey, Flynn,” I purred. “I’m glad you called.”
I set my bag on the table and slid myself into the booth, pushing as close to him as possible. He couldn’t take his eyes off me, and I knew he was dying to get a better look at me in the dress. He could play games with me all he wanted, but I knew his weakness—it was me, and it was me in red.
“Excuse me, bitch, but we’re having dinner here,” Blondie snapped, glaring at me and then looking at Flynn. “Tell her we’re busy, baby.”
He said nothing to her, and as badly as I wanted to throw a fit and walk the fuck out, I stayed in character, held my shoulders firm, and smiled as sweetly as I could.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls.”
I gave him a small pout and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been a busy girl. I’m here now, aren’t I?” I then looked at his other guest and sighed. “It doesn’t look like you’ve been lonely, though, sweetheart.”
His eyes darkened. “You ran out, and your friend was giving me the fucking runaround.”
God, he was such a spoiled brat. He was obviously finding kicks somewhere, which honestly didn’t make me happy in the least, but who was I to question his choices? Who was I to be jealous of the girl? No one. That’s who.
“Flynn,” she whined.
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes and shifted so I was facing him in the booth. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt, and it was the first time I’d seen him so casual. It looked good on him, made him look more human. The man could wear the hell out of a suit, but it was so pretentious and stuffy. The t-shirt made him look more his age.
“Where were you?”
I smirked. “Worried about me, handsome? You shouldn’t be. I take care of myself.”
His nostrils flared. “Jayne, I called. I needed to see you, and I was told you were unavailable.”
I nodded slowly, like you would when you were trying to get your point across to a small child. “I was unavailable. I told you. I’ve been very busy.”
He sat back and grinned again, and his little honey snuggled into his side, wrapping her hands around his bicep. And then he ignored me. Completely ignored me for the next ninety minutes. He took his girl on the dance floor, brought her back to the table and made out with her, ignored me some more, drank like a fish, and totally pissed me right the fuck off.
I tried to roll with it for a while. It was money, plain and simple. If he wanted to pay me five grand to sit and chaperone his date with possibly the stupidest girl on the planet, I was more than willing, but it started eating at me, that familiar pang of jealousy I got where he was concerned. I wanted to shove it all away, I wanted not to care, but he was under my skin. I was interested, I was intrigued, and God help me, I was attracted to him.
Even when he was acting like the biggest jackass in the world.
Then I finally figured it out. He was pissed off. He was proving a point. Somehow, I’d insulted him, bruised his ego, so he was going to make damn sure I read him loud and clear. He could get and have anything he wanted. He’d wanted me, and I’d declined. He wanted me to know he could replace me, and he had.
Funny thing was, he just didn’t understand that I wasn’t his to play with. He was mine. I was using him to pay a debt, using my body to lure him in, and eventually he’d figure out that the joke was on him the whole time.
Finally, I’d had enough. It was going on eleven o’clock, and my two hours was officially up. Aside of that fact, his friend was fumbling around trying to give him a hand job under the table, and I’d had enough.
“Well, Mr. Maguire, I’m afraid it’s time for me to call it a night.”
I downed the rest of my watered down whiskey sour and slid the glass to the end of the table. When I looked up, his eyes were fuming.
“I don’t think so,” he said calmly.
I gave him an indulgent smile and touched his forearm with my fingertips. My eyes never left his, and as lost as I was in them, I didn’t drop the act.
“It was a lot of fun, sweetheart. As always. But, I have other obligations, and our time is up.” I let my finger draw a figure eight along the muscles of his triceps and lowered my voice. “You just give me a call if you’d like to visit with me again.”
I pushed away and slid myself through the booth, making to stand up.
“Finally she gets the hint,” the tragic blonde huffed.
I shuffled my bag over my shoulder and leaned across the table, both palms firm against the wooden surface and my face close enough that she could feel my breath.
“Darlin’, I think it’s about time you get the hint. That pathetic attempt at a hand job you just gave him is what he paid me for, so once you figure that out, I’m sure you’ll understand why I feel fucking sorry for you.”
I let my eyes slide to Flynn, narrowing them when I saw the smirk on his face. I scowled. “Good to know you can at least get it up. I was worried you had a lift issue. Now I know you just have issues, period,” I hissed. I slammed my hand on the table, smiled a smile full of teeth and glossy red lips, and walked the fuck out of The Maguire.
Again.
As soon as my car hit the boulevard, I dialed Vince’s number and pushed call. I was shaken, and I was running late for my next date. More than anything, I was pissed off again. Motherfucker had a lot of nerve.
“You’re late,” he
snapped when the call connected.
“I’m sorry. I’m on my way. Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth his while.”
“You always do, kid. You be safe. I’m on the prowl, so I’ll be right there if you need me. Right outside the door.”
I took a shaky breath and swung into the driveway of the hotel where I was meeting my next client. “We need to talk tonight. Can you stay again?”
“Always, Janie. You know it.”
I smiled into the phone and ended the call. The valet was already rushing out to grab my key, so I hurriedly grabbed my lipstick from my purse, gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror of the visor, and slid a coat of lipstick on my lips.
I was still in good form, seeing that I hadn’t actually done anything with Flynn, so I was well prepared to meet my next client. A Mr. Jason Fields. A tourist from Idaho, in Las Vegas for a banker’s convention.
Fun.
Vince had already given me all the details, the room number, and the expectations, so I quickly made my way to the room on the fourth floor. Room 41B, generic Deluxe Queen. I wasn’t sure how he had the money to pay for a night of Jayne, and frankly didn’t care. As long as he was quick, normal, and paid the bill, none of it mattered.
I spotted Vince as I left the elevator and gave him a discrete sign with my fingers. He nodded, and I let out a sigh of relief.
I straightened my dress, raised my hand, and knocked on the door three times. He must have been standing behind it waiting, and when he saw me, letting his eyes dance from head to toe, his smile was megawatt.
He was also cute.
“Hello, handsome,” I mewled. “Were you expecting me?”
He gulped, and I watched as his Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. I giggled. He was nervous, and he was just what I needed after a night with a man like Flynn. The man in front of me was mesmerized. That, I was comfortable with. He wanted me, needed a taste, and had dreamed about a woman like me in his bed for years. He’d appreciate me, worship me, and walk away with a memory he’d never erase.
“Are you gonna invite me in, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”
He snapped into action, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside before peeking his head out, looking left and then right, and slamming the door behind us.
Before I knew it, he’d lifted me by the waist and tossed me on the bed, a joyful smile on his baby face.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he mused.
I smiled, grateful that I hadn’t lost it, and obliged to give that man every bit of his money’s worth.
NINE
I heard banging. Loud, obnoxious banging. I blinked several times and tried to focus my eyes enough to see what time it was. I peeked at the time on my cell phone and groaned. It was near three thirty in the morning, and the only person I’d expect to knock on my front door at that time, or anytime, was Vince, and he was snoring on his stomach next to me.
I shook his shoulder, whispering loudly in his ear. “Vince, get up. Someone’s outside.”
He jolted up, hand already on the gun underneath his pillow, and jumped out of bed. He rushed to the door, wearing boxers and his black socks, gun pointed straight ahead. I grabbed my robe, tying it tightly around my waist and followed behind him, careful to be as quiet as possible.
The whole thing smelled bad. There was no reason for anyone to be at my door. Something was wrong, and it turned my blood into ice water.
“Jesus, fuck,” he snapped, turning to face me. “Fucking Maguire.”
My eyebrows shot up and I let out a small gasp of surprise. “What the hell?”
Nodding toward the door, he gave me a questioning look. “This guy gonna be trouble, Janie? What the fuck is he doing here?”
“I don’t know!” I hissed. “How the hell should I know?”
Vince sighed, running his hand through his dark locks. “This isn’t good, Janie. This is… shit.”
Taking a deep breath, I went over the situation in my head. Flynn was being a spoiled brat. Obviously. He was pissed that I didn’t play into his hands like everyone else, and he was still hungry. I knew I had to deal with it, get him to leave by telling him whatever it was he needed to hear. And then I’d deal with Vince.
“Let me talk to him. I’ll get him to leave. Just give me a minute.”
His lips pressed into a firm line. He wasn’t happy, but there was no sense in him doing or saying something to make things worse. There was still the hope that Flynn would call me again. I needed to take that into account.
“Just step back. I can deal with him.”
I moved past him and opened the door, smiling when I caught Flynn’s eye. “It’s inappropriate for you to come to my house, Flynn.”
His scowl grew, and the fire is his eyes blazed. He was furious.
“You just walk out on me? You come home to your man?”
I barked out a laugh. With my hands on my hips, I decided to play this another way. “Mr. Maguire, my evening with you came to an end, and I left. I thanked you for a nice evening, you paid me, and that’s it. You have no right to question what I do afterward. You’re a client, and I am an escort. That’s a business arrangement. My home? That’s personal. You don’t come here pressing me about my private life.”
His hand came forward, and out of instinct, I flinched. The look on his face caused me to instantly regret it, and I gave a quick smile to cover it up.
“I would never hurt you, Jayne. You have an eyelash,” he said, his voice low and soft. He reached up again, slowly, and pinched the stray hair between his thumb and finger. “There. I got it.”
I leaned forward and blew on it, a superstitious thing to do, but something I’d learned from my mother.
I also made a wish.
“Thank you.”
We were quiet for a moment, both of us staring at the other, unsure what to do.
“I want to see you tomorrow, Jayne. No bullshit, no one else, just you and me. I promise you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”
I wasn’t sure what to think, but with him standing there in a rumpled shirt and the top button of his jeans undone, hair in disarray, it was a little difficult to take him seriously. I wanted to though, very much, and that only pissed me off.
“Are you asking me to meet with you, looking like you’ve been ridden all night by that blonde? Have you that little respect for me, Mr. Maguire? If so, I’ll have to ask you to get the fuck off my porch, and the fuck out of my life.”
“No!” he exclaimed. “I left her at the bar. It was stupid, Jayne. I was trying to… I was trying…”
His hand went into his hair and he turned around to face the street, cursing. “I was trying to get your attention. I was making you jealous. I was sitting in my car… across the street… waiting.”
I laughed. Hard.
“Flynn, do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? You’ve had my attention four times now. You pay for my attention… isn’t that the whole point?”
He turned to face me, and the look on his eyes planted me on my ass. “It’s not the same.”
I blinked. Rapidly. I wasn’t sure what to think of that. Was he serious?
“I’m not sure I understand you, Flynn.”
He grabbed my shoulders, taking a step closer to me and leaning in closely. “I want you to want to spend time with me.”
Well, shit. I wasn’t expecting that, and although I did want to spend time with him, I didn’t feel like it was in my best interest to blurt it out. I’d lose my footing with him if I did. My advantage would be lost, and then everything would be fucked.
“I enjoy spending time with you, Flynn. But I will tell you something.”
He nodded, so I continued. “I resent the fact that you continue to bring other women. I am not some common whore. I take what I do seriously, and I don’t appreciate the games you’ve been playing with me.”
“No more games,” he said, shaking his head. “I want to spend time with you. And I don’t thin
k you’re a common whore.”
I sighed and nervously fiddled with the sash of my robe. Several times, his eyes had travelled the length of my body, and I knew it wasn’t the smartest idea to be standing there in my tiny robe and my even smaller pajamas. The attraction between us was so strong and the pull tugged hard, but he was confusing and troubled, that was clear. My life was a mess, and he had no idea what he was asking for.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have had to worry. We’d fuck, fuck again, and it’d be done.
“Fine. Call Vince tomorrow and he’ll set something up.”
He shook my shoulders and growled. “Are you not listening? I’m done with the games, Jayne. I want to spend time with you, with Janie. I don’t want to call your pimp for a fucking date!”
My face hardened and my back tightened. The ten minutes of beautiful words he’d blessed me with were suddenly tainted by one simple sentence, and I wanted him gone.
“Get the fuck off my porch. Get out of my life, and don’t come back. You don’t want games? Fine. I just quit playing them. If you want a girlfriend, you’re barking up the wrong tree. You either want a whore, or you don’t. Make up your mind, or stay the hell away from me!”
He turned, cursing under his breath and tugging at his hair. Things had gotten out of control once again. With us, it was always that way. Hot, cold, dark, light. He’d brought out a best in me I’d never experienced, but he always brought out the filth that was under the surface.
I was about to walk back in the house, sick of his shit and ready to hide under my quilt and cry for days, but he stopped me.
“Wait,” he ordered.
Pulling his phone out of his pants pocket, he pressed a number into the screen.
Several seconds later, the person answered, and immediately, I knew who it was.
“I’d like to request the services of Jayne King, for the next ten days, exclusively.”
His eyes met mine, and all I could see was him. His eyes, his smile, smug and knowing and so full of himself. He was making sure he had me. Somehow, it was clear to him that I had no choice, and somehow he made it okay in his head to own me.
