by Jane Henry
Less than twenty-four hours to go. I’ll be ready.
Chapter Four
Miranda
At what point do you explain to your client that you’ve never done a bit of this Daddy stuff? That though you’ve done the research, read the books on your kindle, fantasized about being chastised and smacked on the ass, you would never, ever give a man that much control in real life?
I guess you don’t.
I try to focus on the dollar signs and push my even deeper, darker fear away.
Because at some point… somewhere along the way… you do have to tell him that this is your first time being an escort.
First time doing daddy stuff.
And your… first time.
I’m sitting on my bed. It’s six o’clock. I have exactly one hour to be ready and have my ass down the street to the hotel.
I bury my face in my hands.
There’s no way. No way in hell that I’m going to be able to pull this off.
I have to cancel. Yes, it will put a black mark on our business, earn us some negative feedback, but it has to be done.
Because I’m twenty-nine years old. The owner of an Escort service. And I’m a fucking virgin.
Sure, I’ve done all the other stuff. Reached all the bases. Just never made it to home-base.
I grab my phone out from my purse. Pull up my ongoing thread with Sam. I type:
Cancel it babe—having second thoughts.
My fingertip hovers over the word Send, but I struggle to commit to canceling. The business owner in me fights that finger, that text. The very idea of a one-star review on our private website has my skin crawling.
As I deliberate, my sister’s picture pops up, the ringer playing her favorite song. I pick up on the first ring.
“Hey, Lexi. What’s up? Did you get home safe?”
“Hi, sis! Did you sleep okay after your little spinning incident, yesterday?”
Last night, Sam brought me the contract to sign. She made sure I’m on birth control, which luckily I already am to regulate my periods, and assured me my client had passed our strict background check and health tests. I was so nervous I didn’t even read the guy's name. After she left, I drank down a bottle of wine to rinse down the fear of my first everything with a strange man. “Yeah. I slept like a baby. You?”
“Tom kept me up a little.” She lets out a giggle.
I wouldn’t know anything about that. “Ah, young love. So, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to check on you. And... one more thing.” There’s a long pause. My big sister anxiety goes on high alert. “It’s just a little thing. But I felt bad and wanted to call you right away.”
“Go on.”
“The reception hall, you know the one on the beach dad used to rent to throw his staff Christmas parties?”
“Yes. The Blue Lagoon. I love that place. But I thought they were booked two years out?”
“Well, they just called me. They had a cancellation. I guess I made an impression, or the owner remembered dad, because they called me to fill it!”
“That’s amazing!” The Blue Lagoon would be perfect. And such a sweet nod to dad. I know Lexi is missing him something awful with her wedding coming up. We both are.
“There’s one catch. They want the full payment. Up front. By Monday.”
“How much?”
Another long pause. “Ten grand.”
Today is Saturday.
There’s no way I can get her that much money to her in two days. But I promised to help pay for her dream wedding. And having her reception at a place that reminds her of dad…
I have to make this happen. I can’t let her down. I mentally berate myself for not having the money put aside, for not making sure I could do this one thing for her. But I’m digging myself out of debt, and I—
Wait a minute.
There is one way I can pay.
“Book it. Right now.”
“Oh, are you sure? Miranda, it’s too much money—”
“It would have made dad happy. And it will make you and Tom happy. Book it. I’ll have the money wired to you Monday morning.”
After she thanks me about a zillion times, we say our goodbyes. I glance down at my typed out text to Sam. Read it one more time.
Cancel it babe—having second thoughts.
I hit delete.
There’s no turning back now. I toss my phone onto the bed. Go to my closet and assess. What to wear, what to wear? As I flick through my dresses, I mentally recite my speech that I give to all the new girls.
Ironically, I’m the greenest of them all.
I mentally go over the rules I tell my girls when I’m training them, to coach them about how we run an escort service.
Rule one. Professionalism. Though you may be dressed as a duckling in cosplay, or wearing handcuffs around your wrists, always remember to maintain that professional air. Though the world may look down upon us as working girls, we know we are, in fact, career women.
Okay, so no matter what this guy asks for, within reason, I give it to him. With nothing but professionalism, just like I’ve taught the others I’ve mastered the professional air, I do it all day long.
Rule two. Secondly, always be polite. Retain control, but know your limits. It’s a tricky balance, but after you get a few dates under your belt, you’ll be a pro.
I snort out loud at my own advice. Is it even true? My girls swear by my speech, so fingers crossed…
And of course, I can’t forget my absolute favorite. My own personal motto. One I live by. The tagline the girls of Vegas have come to know me for…
Never. Fall. In. Love.
They chant those words at my training. Whisper them to me when they pass me in the hallways of the Sugar Daddies office. It’s our anthem. Our battle cry. We do what we do, we get paid, we feel nothing.
My eyes land on a white dress. It’s got a fluttery skirt. Capped sleeves. Something a man with daddy tendencies would surely love. I pull it out from the closet.
I hold it over my body, checking my reflection in the mirror.
White. Blindingly white. Virginal white.
For… a virgin.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
And I can’t believe I’ve gotten away with harboring this secret for so many years. I’m overwhelmed with guilt. How could I be such a fraud for all these years?
For a decade, I hired and trained escorts all while keeping my pussy perfectly pure. With a degree in Business Management, a deep love of research, and an overactive imagination, I’ve pulled it off.
Up till now.
I owe it to my girls to rock the fuck out of this night. To blow the mind of this Sugar Daddy. To earn this client’s repeat business.
Thirty minutes later, I’m showered, shaved, lotioned and potioned. Perfume and light makeup. Hair shining like a mermaid. Dressed in my fluttering white dress and silver strappy heels.
I look the part. Now, time to play the game.
It’s only a few blocks, but I don’t want to get sweaty, so I order an Uber. The driver does a double take, his jaw dropping. I take it as a good sign. “Vegas, Baby, please.”
“You got it.” He sneaks glances at me out of the rearview mirror.
I hold in a grin. My nerves dissipate. This should be a piece of cake.
We reach the hotel. I grab my bag and thank the driver. I go to exit the car, but as I stand, the world starts to go fuzzy, dark. “Whoa.” I slump back down on my seat.
The driver turns over his shoulder. “Miss. Miss. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I dismiss his concerns with a wave of my hand.
“You look a little pale. Are you feeling alright?”
Damn. Did I forget to eat again? I’ve been so nervous all day… I must not have. Let me think. What was the last thing I put in my belly.
A bottle of white wine, last night.
Two espressos this morning.
After coffee, remembering I w
as just hospitalized for not eating, I took the time to make myself an egg white and spinach omelet. Later, I sliced up an apple, too tense for anything heavier.
“I think I’m okay. Let me just rest here for a second. Catch my breath. Do you know the time?”
“Seven-o-five.”
“I’m late.”
“You need to eat something.” He pulls a package from the console. Chocolate candies.
A little sugar. Perfect. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” I open the package, nibbling on them.
“Don’t worry, just rest. Here—have some water.” He reaches in the console retrieving an unopened bottle of water and hands it to me. “Please. Drink this.”
I drink half the bottle of water. Thank him again. I make a second attempt to leave the car.
White stars pop into my vision. I’m still a little dizzy. Nauseous. I lean back in the seat. Close my eyes.
“Miss. Miss.” The driver’s panicked voice swirls around in my mind.
A second voice breaks into the cloudy fog. This one is assertive. Confident. “I’ve got her.”
Strong hands slide beneath my arms, lifting me from the car. Leading me to the sidewalk. I grasp for his shoulders, steadying myself.
The sugar finally hits my bloodstream. I’m feeling better now. My gaze focuses on his face. He looks… familiar. I know him from somewhere. “Gabriel? Lord? From the gym?”
“Yes. That’s me.”
“I’m lucky you were passing by and saw me. I had no idea how I was going to get out of the Uber… can you help me to the lobby? I’ve got to meet someone.”
“A date?”
“Yes. And I’m late.”
His gaze is a warning. “I’ll forgive it. This one time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m your client. And I hate delays. But this one time I’ll let it slide.”
He’s my date? The owner of Spynners? The man that chewed me out for not having an emergency contact number listed. I give a little involuntary shiver. Who knew stern could be so... gah... sexy?
He gives me a firm stare. “Miranda, what have you eaten today?”
“Not much…”
“After passing out in my studio, and being hospitalized, you still haven’t begun to take your health seriously?” His tone is stern. Borderline angry.
Maybe it isn’t so sexy. My hackles rise. What business is it of his? “I’m a busy woman.”
“Too busy to eat?” He raises a threatening brow, sending a little shiver down my spine.
I’m getting that nervous butterfly in my stomach feeling. I’m in trouble. “I just, got, you know…”
“Come. Let’s get you fed. A proper meal. And we’ll have ourselves a little chat.”
Little chat? He makes it sound like it’s code for something.
He takes my hand. Holds it tight as if to keep me from running off. Leads me through the lobby. We ride the elevator alone. His gaze roves over my body as we rise to the top floor. “Pretty dress.”
“Thank you.” Where’s my witty banter? My dry comments? I stand there, speechless.
“I’ll order for you.” He doesn’t wait for a response. The elevator doors open once more. He takes me by the hand, leading me into Opulence, the five-star rooftop restaurant Vegas, Baby is famous for. He breezes right by the hostess stand, to the outdoor seating.
There’s a table for two, already prepared. Champagne on ice. A basket of bread. A cheese sampler tray.
Damn. Is this the treatment my girls have been getting? I've been missing out.
He pulls out a chair for me. I slide in. A waiter comes up behind me, unfolding a napkin and spreading it over my lap.
Gabriel takes his seat. Catching the waiter's eye, he waves to the bucket of bubbly. “Take it away.”
No, wait! I watch in horror as my liquid courage is carried away from the table. “Are you sure? That looked delicious.”
He leans in. His gaze locks on mine. “Passing out. Not eating. Almost passing out again? I don’t need to be a doctor to know that the last thing you need right now is champagne. What you’re having is a healthy meal with some protein.”
The waiter returns. Before I can protest, he’s ordered for both of us. Grilled trout on a bed of greens and whipped potatoes.
My mouth is watering. I eat the food, and he nods with stern approval. When I’ve eaten half my plate, he nods again.
“Now. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”
I start with the basics. “I’m originally from California. I moved to Nevada. Put myself through college…”
My rattling off vague details of my life trails off as I begin to wonder…
Was this booking just a coincidence? I think not.
Yesterday morning, Mr. Lord came to the hospital. I receive an urgent text from Sam, telling me we have an emergency and I have to take a booking. The next night I’m sitting across from him.
I give him my own hard stare. “Let me ask you something. How did you come to hear about Sugar Daddies? We’re a very exclusive, discreet organization.” I wrap my hand around my water glass, wishing it were wine.
I expect him to fluster. To look away. To make up an excuse.
He does nothing like that. “After you were injured, I looked you up. Found out what you do for a living. And that you’ve never taken a client.”
“And then?”
He looks me dead in the eye. “I made damn sure I’d be your first.”
My first.
He has no idea to what ridiculous degree his statement is completely accurate. “How did you work it out with Sam?”
“Your office needed a new HVAC unit. Those don’t come cheap. And just between you and me and Sam, I don’t think Sugar Daddies Escort Service could afford a new one on their own.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. So, he already knows one of my secrets—though we are doing well, I spend the majority of our income on my employees’ salaries. Sam knows. She was in on this deal, booking me and getting every penny she could out of it to help boost our office maintenance funds.
Smart. If I wasn’t so pissed at her right now, I’d text her to tell her how proud I am of her.
“Five grand. Just to be your first client. I’m still happily paying your fee.”
Five grand, just for the booking. I never thought to ask what amount Sam had negotiated for this evening. My throat feels dry, tight. I take a sip from my water glass. “How much?”
“Twenty grand a night. She said you’re worth it.”
My eyes widen in shock as I choke back my drink. He hands me a napkin. That’s going to pay for the Blue Lagoon, the food, the alcohol, the band… all of it, everything Lexi is dreaming of for her big day.
“That’s… generous of you.” And fucking brilliant of Sam. I swear that woman could hold her own working for the mafia.
This is the perfect moment to come clean. To use my other little secret to my advantage. I lick my lips. Lower my lids. Sultry up my voice. “And… I am worth it. You know why?”
“I’m listening.” He stirs in his seat. I can imagine him getting hard under this table, his cock easy prey for my seductive ways.
Who says you have to be experienced to be sexy? “There’s a reason my fee was so high. A good one. The same reason I’m wearing this lovely, white dress.” My fingertips slide to the thin sleeve and I slide it down my arm, baring my shoulder, exposing the upper curve of my breast.
He leans in further. “Do go on.”
“Can’t you guess?” My voice is a whisper.
Desire lights his eyes. “Tell me.”
“I’m a virgin.”
Chapter Five
Gabriel
“Oh my goodness. Gabriel? Do you need help?”
I’m choking on my glass of water, sputtering like a goddamn fool. Miranda gets up, wobbles on her five-inch-strappy silver stilettos and whacks my back, trying to revive me. A wide-eyed waiter hands me a glass of water, and moments later, I’m finally breathing norm
ally again.
“Anything else I can get you, sir?” the waiter asks.
“The check,” I say, wheezing. I point back to Miranda’s chair. “I’m fine. Sit.”
She sits, her blue eyes not leaving mine for a second. She opens her mouth and then closes it again, then finally whispers, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Twenty-nine years old. Drop dead gorgeous. Virgin.
What’s she playing at? The woman owns an escort service. I did some digging, and she runs not only an escort service, but one of the most professional, well-respected escort services in Vegas.
And she’s a virgin?
She tips her head to the side, staring at me as if I’m going to pounce on her.
“You look as if you don’t trust me,” I say warily, sipping the water the waiter brought.
“I just… well, first of all, I’m not sure how I’d possibly trust you. I mean, we only just met. Second of all, you just ordered me back into the chair and you look as if you’re angry. So I’m merely trying to decide how to proceed from here.”
I respect her honesty. She says this all matter-of-factly, the boss babe handling her shit the way she always does. But there’s a thread of hurt in her eyes she can’t quite mask.
“I’m not sure how to proceed from here myself,” I tell her. I keep my gaze fixed on her.
On the one hand, I’m completely enamored by the thought of having my way with a virgin. And not only a virgin, but this virgin.
On the other hand… how can I really have my way with her when she’s… inexperienced in the bedroom? I half feel like a fucking predator for even thinking of taking her virginity.
“How did a woman as beautiful as you get to be twenty-nine years old and still…” my voice trails off. I don’t complete the sentence because she’s clearly taking this personally. Her cheeks are flushed, and she won’t look at me.
“I’m happy to get you another escort, Mr. Lord,” she says, not meeting my eyes, and there’s a note of steel in her voice.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Honestly, I think it best that I find a replacement,” she says coldly as she gets to her feet. Grabs her purse.
