Ashton: The Escort (Mature)

© 2013 KIMBER LEE Ashton: The Escort (Mature)

A/N: This is sort of a prequel/tie-in to The Escort but in Ashton’s point of view (you don’t have to have read The Escort though). It’s just a one-shot and something fun I wanted to do (and other people wanted me to do) so I hope you enjoy it and still love Ashy, even though he’s a total perve. Enjoy! Xo

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When Genevieve Brown asked me to make her feel good, I would never in a million years have thought that that was code for “Let me suck your dick, Ash”.

My sudden inability to formulate a cohesive sentence had nothing to do with the fact that I wasn’t one of Eden’s “piece-of-meat” escorts – the half of the agency that all but wh0red themselves out to women for money – therefore should have taken offence to Genevieve’s intimation that I would be absolutely okay with her wrapping her hot-pink Botoxed lips around my cock.

No, my speechlessness had been brought on by the stark reality that I was sitting in my Lexus on a Friday night after accompanying a client to a fancy dinner for a hefty sum of cash – and said client had to be about eighty-five-years old (eighty, if I was being kind) – and she had just made the universal cock-sucking motion with her right hand and mouth.

There was no way in fucking hell I was letting Betty White’s stunt double give me a blowjob.

Not for all the money in England.

“Well, Ash?” Genevieve prompted, brushing one wrinkled hand against my arm. I wasn’t exactly ageist but the sight of her hand on me in such a suggestive manner made me taste bile. I wasn’t proud of being a dickhead at that moment but I just couldn’t help it.

No client of mine had ever come onto me, especially in such a crass manner. I was the first to admit that I wasn’t the world’s most stand-up guy – not by a long shot – but when I was Ash, I was as close as could be.

Ash was a caring, smooth talker. He knew how to make a woman feel like the best thing since Playboy; knew how to make her feel like the centre of his universe, even if it was for one evening and she was paying for it.

Because “Ash” was sincere. He wanted to see a plain, shy woman light up when he told her she looked beautiful. Wanted to listen when she confessed that she was still a virgin and being out with him – platonically – was helping her get out of her shell. Wanted to be a rich old lady’s date to some ritzy dinner party and watch her pruned face transform with joy when he made her laugh the entire night with his less-than-classy antics.

“Ashton” could’ve been “Ash”, except he was more casual. They both worshipped women but “Ashton” knew he couldn’t commit to one. Never would.

Only dìcks refer to themselves in third person, my conscience was quick to inform me.

At thirty, settling down was the furthest thing from my mind, even if that broke my mother’s heart and mine in the process. I hated hurting my Teddy. She’d been hurt once, used and discarded by a married man and had moved continents to heal her broken heart. She was one of the reasons I did this. If I could make even one woman look in the mirror and feel sexy, feel good about herself, then I’d done my job. It had never been about the money.

But I digress.

The truth was that I was offended by Genevieve’s offer to blow me, which was stupid. Every guy liked a mouth around his cock, as long as it knew what it was doing down there, and something – probably the lascivious look she was giving me – told me that Genevieve had spent her eighty-plus years learning the art of giving head.

I was insulted because this woman clearly thought I would jump at her proposal when I had spent the entire evening engaging in intelligent conversation with her. I was a smart guy. I’d gone to law school. I owned a few businesses here and there.

Yet it was obvious that despite our witty banter, I was just a piece of meat in a tuxedo to her. It didn’t matter that I was one of the few escorts at Eden that wasn’t a glorified male prostitute. It didn’t matter that women only booked me if they wanted a date to some function or other, or even just to talk to someone who would make them feel gorgeous.

It didn’t matter to Genevieve because to her, I was just some poor sap who would probably suck a billy goat’s left nut if it meant a little extra cash.

Well, fuck that.

Clearing my throat, I managed a strangled “What?” and instantly regretted it when Genevieve – Gen, as she’d insisted I call her – said the words aloud: “I know your cock is lovely and big, Ash, so I want to suck it. Sucking you would please me ever so much. Plus I’m good at it. Rocky says so.”

Now I really didn’t want to envision stocky, hairy Rocky kicking back while Old Mother Hubbard here sucked him off. Rocky got paid to fuck women and he loved it. That was why he’d jetted off to Milan with a wealthy widow I was sure he was screwing by the hour and left me to stand in for him with Genevieve. And just like that, an image of Rocky bending old ladies over and taking them invaded my sick, twisted mind. Eager to shut that shit down, I thought about something else, something totally arbitrary: SpongeBob.

That’s right, Ash. Remember him? Yellow, annoying-as-fuck sponge… Big shit-eating grin… Dumb-as-a-dildo starfish pal…

“I’ll add an extra hundred quid to your total bill for the night,” Genevieve added as she reached across the console of my car and stroked my crotch. Ashton Junior was as hard as a popped balloon and was irritated with me, wondering what madness this was. I felt him shrivel away in disgust, never to reappear again. And could I blame him?

Sorry, buddy. Don’t die on me. I’ll make it up to you. We’ll get through this. Together.

Ashton Junior seemed to consider my apology as I stilled Genevieve’s small hand before gently removing it and placing it on her own lap. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ashton Junior came out of hiding and kissed the fly of my slacks.

“Genevieve, babe,” I calmly began, “Rocky might have been a gigolo in every sense of the word but I’m just an escort. Like the verb, I accompany you places. I don’t fuck my clients. Ever.”

She cocked her silver head to one side. “Ever?”

“I don’t pay for sex and I don’t get paid for it,” I said firmly, not to mention that because of my legal background, I couldn’t involve myself in something so sordid and unlawful. Despite what everyone thought, I was a pretty stand-up guy.

“Then what,” Genevieve began, looking more curious than annoyed, “exactly do you…do?”

I arched a brow. “Babe, why did you ask Monty for me?”

“Because you're bloody good-looking, of course.” She raised one pink cashmere-covered shoulder in a slight shrug. “Monty told me to choose anyone, since I always pay in advance for my Rocky and it was the least she could do.”

I never cursed in front of females when I was on the job but tonight was a first. Besides, Genevieve certainly wasn’t an angel.

“And you thought fucking me would be part of tonight’s experience,” I muttered glumly, making a mental note to slaughter Monty’s throat tomorrow morning at her office.

Genevieve surprised me by letting out a raspy laugh. “Look at me, love,” she said cheerfully, gesturing at her wrinkles, oddly plump lips and expensive attire. “A cock hasn’t entered this cunt since Noah drew the blueprints for the Ark!”

I felt my face crease in confusion. “Then what –”

“Darling,” she interjected, “I love putting a man’s appendage into my mouth. It turns me on. These days, that’s all I can manage but it’s enough.” She winked at me. “Rocky prefers it when I remove my dentures.”

I was going to regurgitate the three-course meal she’d paid for.

“Uh, cool.”

She stared at me, icy-blue eyes assessing. “I’m sorry if I offended you, sweetheart. Honestly, I had no idea you were one of Monty’s choirboys. Next time, I’ll make sure to double check.”

I flushed. Monty’s choirboys? “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you for your company. I wouldn’t have been able to survive that dinner party without your youthful conversation, Ash.”

I quickly collected myself and flashed her a grin. “Youthful conversation? Why, Gen dear, you make this youth blush.”

Giggling like a schoolgirl, she pushed open her door and I rushed to get out and help her into The Willis-Tomlinson, the hotel she was staying at for the weekend. After depositing her inside, I got into my car and stared into space, chuckling to myself. With her curly, silver hair, kind blue eyes and bubbly personality, Genevieve had seemed so sweet and docile. A piece of cake.

Until she’d offered to blow me for an extra hundred bucks.

Looks can be so damn deceiving, I thought wryly.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time I was propositioned in such a way but it had been a long time since and my regulars had long ago accepted the service I provided. Now and then, I’d get a regretful “I wish I’d married you” or, my personal favourite, “Can’t we just fuck once and get that out the way?”

Sometimes it was difficult to resist – difficult but doable – and I’d return home with blue balls. Other times, I’d let Monty know that a particular client wasn’t respecting the agency’s rules and she’d cancel any subsequent bookings they had with me.

Monty, I thought grimly, starting up the car.

The woman was going to get it tomorrow.

 

***

From the outside, Eden looked like your average office building. Tinted glass and a heavy steel skeleton gave the entire office block a cosmopolitan feel in what was a little conservative London avenue and once inside, plush crimson carpeting and dangling skylights made the lobby seem like a swanky hotel.

Monty owned all thirteen floors of this particular building with her office being first level. Marcus, a beefy, relatively silent guy, was standing sentry at the bank of elevators. I nodded my greeting and pressed the Up button, sighing in relief when the doors immediately opened and I could step into the empty car. Eden was empty during the day but at night, women practically convened at the doors, all of them horny and ready for sex within these very walls. I didn’t normally visit the other floors – floors solely dedicated to housing lavish fuck rooms for clients and their escorts – so I mentally groaned when the elevator paused on the ninth floor.

The doors opened and Luca Ferrell stepped inside, a wide grin on his face. I hadn’t seen him in a while because lately, our weekends hanging out at the local skateboard park were nonexistent. Casually dressed in a black Slipknot T-shirt and faded blue jeans, he’d probably been restocking his room in preparation for tonight’s client. Luca was a kinky fucker.

“What’re you doing here so early, West?” he enquired in his familiar Irish drawl, slapping me on my back. “Early” was eleven o’clock to him. “Changed your mind about shagging on the job, have we?”

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Luca had been the one to refer me to Monty when I decided to get into the business and for that I was grateful, but his constant urging for me to “shag on the job” was annoying as hell.

“With your wild hair and green eyes, you’ll be oversexed, mate!” Luca had ecstatically informed me the first time he’d told me about Eden, as if he could just picture me with a woman right then.

“I don’t want to be that kind of escort, man,” I’d told him, watching the smile fall from his face.

“Don’t tell me, West...” Luca had – ostentatiously, in my opinion – buried his face in his hands. “You wanna be one of those hand-holders? One of those ‘You want to pay for a shoulder to cry on?’ types? There’re enough of those dickless pansies out there!”

I’d gone red. With annoyance, not embarrassment. “Don’t be so fucking condescending. I won’t let a woman pay me to sleep with her. That’s not what I’m about.”

Luca’s hazel eyes had widened before he said soberly, “If a girl wants a gay best friend, she doesn’t need to pay for one.”

Resisting the urge to beat the crap out of someone I’d considered my blood since high school, I’d muttered for him to get me in touch with Monty. The rest was history.

“I haven’t changed my mind about jack,” was my response to Luca’s question today. “Just here to see Monty about…something.” I sure as hell didn’t want to be the butt of Luca’s jokes if he caught wind of my being propositioned by a woman old enough to be my grandmother last night.

“Well, while you were taking Granny Smith to dinner last night, a woman booked me for four hours to have a threesome with her and her twin sister,” Luca chattered, thankfully ignoring my subdued tone. He sighed while he reminisced. “Ever been with twins? It’s like being drunk and seeing double, only the double exists.”

I rolled my eyes. “Double the STDs.”

We were arguing the merits of safe sex by the time the elevator pinged on the twelfth floor and, laughing and flipping the bird, Luca got off, leaving me to get to Monty’s penthouse office alone.

Eleanor Montgomery was a sixty-something widow with a calculating brain and the dress sense of a fashionable schoolteacher. Friendly, eccentric and too goddamn observant for her own good, she protected all twenty-nine of her escorts with the viciousness of a lioness in the wild and insisted everyone call her Monty. I was willing to bet the government didn’t use her government name.

Today, she was wearing a cropped navy blazer and matching pencil skirt. Pacing her office in sky-high heels (I would never understand why women subjected themselves to such torture, although heels were damned sexy) with her phone pressed to her ear, she was arguing with some hapless person on the other end; someone who was, without a shadow of doubt, one of her men.

“Honestly, Victor,” Monty cooed, motioning for me to take one of the two leather seats in front of her desk, “how clumsy can you be?” She paused, listening to what the guy had to say to her. “I know you're in pain, love, but what were you doing?”

Sinking into the chair and crossing one leg over my knee at the ankle, I took out a pack Silk Cuts and stuck one into my mouth, pursing my lips as I searched for my lighter. I knew from experience that Monty’s phone conversations could go on for decades.

“Of course I’m not blaming you, Vicky.” She sounded patronising. “But what about Amor? This is the worst possible time for you to have had an accident. You knew you were booked for tonight, Vicky. What were you doing jogging at two in the morning?”

Curious, I glanced over my shoulder, catching Monty mid-stride. She held up a perfectly-manicured index finger, the universal sign for I’ll be with you in one moment.

“All right, Vic. Do you know when you'll be on your feet?” She waited, then let out an uncharacteristic groan. “Are you serious? No, no. I’m not against religion. Don’t be ridiculous.” She paused again. “Well, what am I supposed to tell everyone? That you’ve suddenly become a Bible-thumping invalid?” Pause. “That’s all right. I’ll just make a plan for your subsequent bookings. Get well soon, darling. I wish you luck.”

“Trouble in paradise?” I asked when silence finally stretched, leaning back in the chair.

“No smoking in my office, Ashy,” Monty murmured, rounding her table and settling into her black, leather high-back chair. She absentmindedly pushed an empty ashtray at me.

I stubbed my cigarette out before reclining. “So, Victor’s a Bible-thumping invalid?”

Laughing, Monty replied, “More or less. He was hit by a motorcycle early this morning and found Jesus. Calls it a near-death experience that resulted in a broken leg.” She sighed. “Anyway, Eden’s lost a good man.”

I stifled a laugh. If by “good man”, Monty meant her agency had lost a mind-numbing, snobbish guy who made watching paint dry seem like an episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey, then sure. From a completely heterosexual point of view, Victor was about as attractive as a bag of horse crap, so I couldn’t understand what had possessed him to become an escort. I told myself that my low opinion of him had nothing to do with how he made no secret that he thought I was a “low-class, blundering ruffian” – his words, not mine – and therefore unfit to be in the company of any woman, let alone a paying one.

Now he’d found Jesus. What a laugh.

“Sure. If you say so,” I remarked. “Anyway, I’m here to lodge a formal complaint with my superior, if that’s okay with you.”

A slow smile spread across Monty’s face. She loved it when I pretended that we were normal, everyday co-workers in a normal, everyday office. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. West?”

“Genevieve Brown. Why didn’t you tell her I’m not in the same league as Rocky before we went out last night and she tried to jump me?”

Monty let out yet another sigh. “Sorry about that, Ashy. I knew she was attracted to you but I –”

“Of course she’s attracted to me,” I snorted. “Who isn’t?”

Monty stared at me for a long moment. This was usually the part where she told me I had a big head and I replied with “I have two big heads” and a wink. Tapping her long, French-tipped fingernails on the mahogany surface of her desk, she said gently, “How would you like to replace Vicky tonight?”

“Replace him? Like how I replaced Rocky yesterday? Hell, no.”

“I can assure you that Amor Page isn’t a horny elderly woman,” Monty said dryly.

I stiffened. “Amor Page?”

“Please don’t tell me she’s an ex of yours,” Monty said warningly, although she had a smile on her face.

“Never even seen the woman,” I replied honestly, watching Monty fiddle with her iPhone. “Her name... Well, my mom listens to her radio show.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sure you’ll like what you see.” And she handed me her phone.

The first thing I saw was hair. Waves and waves of coffee poured down the sides of her perfectly-done face. It didn’t take me long to notice her wide, deer-in-the-headlights chocolate-brown eyes. They looked haunted, as if she hadn’t expected someone to take her picture and didn’t know how to tell them to stop. I tore my gaze away from them, feeling like a trespasser, and swallowed hard when I caught some cleavage in her sleeveless black cocktail dress. Ashton Junior immediately awoke from hibernation, twitching in the confines of my jeans.

And then I saw Victor standing beside her, looking totally nondescript in his tuxedo. A flash of something tore right through me at the sight of his big paw planted on this woman’s tiny waist.

What the fuck, West?

I handed Monty’s phone back, imperceptibly adjusting my erection in the process. “You never show us photos of first timers. What gives?”

Monty gave me a knowing smile. “Just wanted to make sure you know who she is, sweetheart.”

“Great,” I choked out, annoyed at my groin. I definitely needed to get laid ASAP if a mere glance at cleavage was giving me such a hard-on. “She doesn’t look like she needs to pay someone to be her date.”

“Most of our clients simply don’t have the time or inclination to date, Ashy. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get that but come on, Mont. She’s a relationship guru. Don’t you find this ironic?”

Monty smiled. “I don’t question paying clients, darling. Now, would you love a little extra money in your pocket? She pays well.”

I thought of Amor’s wide, doe eyes. Speculated if she had one of those cute English accents I still hadn’t picked up myself. And like a total perve, wondered what colour her nipples were.

“Sure, Monty. After last night, I think a little eye candy’s in order.”

 

***

The mansion was already packed by the time I arrived. Handing my car keys to the valet, I strolled inside, sticking my hands into my pockets. I was late and Amor was probably fuming by now, as she should’ve been. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d called Monty and complained.

Teddy, the only woman in my life at that moment, had invited me over for lunch, coupled with a few hours of interrogation. I loved my mother more than anyone in the world but sometimes, she sounded like a broken record.

“Are you going to continue to stay in the loft above your bar forever?”

Probably. It was convenient. Living above The Brawl meant I could keep a permanent eye on the place and have an unlimited supply of beer as a reward.

“When are you going to find a lovely woman to marry, sweetheart? I’m getting old and I want grandchildren.”

Old? My mother was only forty-six and I knew for a fact that my friends called her a MILF behind my back. She was the one that needed to settle down but she insisted that she was happy the way she was. Alone.

“Champagne, sir?” a voice said, snapping me out of my musings and back to the crowded entertainment lounge.

I glanced at the flute the bespectacled attendant was offering me and flashed her my trademark grin. “No, thanks, babe.”

The woman blushed and scuttled away with her tray. I craned my neck in an attempt to find Amor and, thanks to my height, I felt a shiver of excitement when I finally spotted her. As expected, she had her phone pressed to her ear as her eyes scanned the crowd. She turned her back on me and I waded through the sea of people until I was an arm’s length away from her.

“Amor?”

She whirled around, a look of barely suppressed anger on her face that immediately evaporated when she looked me over. I was shocked that I was sporting a semi in my boxers, a semi that was quickly turning into a raging boner. I had never reacted to a client in such a strong way and it wasn’t even as if she was dressed to attract male attention. Voluptuous chest squeezed into a peach blouse and endless legs encased by black slacks, she looked like she’d been summoned to a boardroom, not her mother’s birthday party.

“You are Amor, right?” I pressed, unable to resist the smirk on my face when I realised that she was blatantly checking me out.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Yes. And you are...?”

Maybe it was the way she’d unwittingly drawn my attention to her throat when she’d gulped so obviously. Or perhaps it was the provocative way her tits jutted out, begging for attention. Then again, it could’ve been her eyes, so expressive yet so guarded.

Because once the words “Your date” had left my mouth, the only thing I wanted to do was kiss her. Hard.

So I did.

Once I’d pulled her to me, her warm body became pliant against mine. Her lips were soft and her breath came out in short starts against my mouth. I wanted to slide my tongue into the sweet warmth of her mouth and taste her to my heart’s content, especially when she let out an involuntary mew. Unfortunately, Ashton Junior chose that exact moment to make his presence known to her.

Amor pulled away from me, murder and lust in her eyes.

“What the hell –”

“The agency sent me,” I cut in, letting out a sharp breath and telling myself to get my head out the gutter. “Your loverboy had an accident this morning. Motorbike. I’m the replacement.”

Amor gave me a dazed look. “Keep your voice down!” she hissed, taking hold of my arm and trying to tug me out the room with her. She glanced at me, annoyed. “Could we go somewhere private?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

She dragged me into what looked like a study and slamming the door shut behind us.

“Victor doesn’t own a bike,” she immediately announced.

“No, he was hit by a bike. Poor cunt.” Actually, this is serendipity.

Amor visibly stiffened. I wondered if it was because of the idea of Victor being hurt – and then I realised I’d just used the c-word. I was such an ass.

“Who are you again?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Ash.”

“Ash,” she repeated in a dull voice. “The agency sent me a guy called Ash.”

It was at times like these that I needed a smoke. Amor was nothing like I’d expected. Digging into the pockets of my suit, I found what I was looking for and stuck it into my mouth. Deciding to be generous, I asked, “Want one? You look like you could use one.” Lighting the cigarette was like relieving tension.

Amor flipped out. “You can’t smoke in here!”

I made a show of looking over the messy room. “I don’t see a no-smoking sign. Could it perhaps be written in invisible ink?”

Stop fucking with the client, my conscience chided. But that brought images of fucking the client which served to piss me off. Mentally cursing, I moved to lean against one wall, hoping I wasn’t wearing my lust on my face as I looked at Amor.

She glared at me, the wheels in her head obviously turning. The look in her eyes became judgmental, and I knew she didn’t like the fact that I hadn’t shaved.

“What the hell is that?” she suddenly exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at my face.

I reached up and stroked the back of my neck then one side. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Amor spat, striding towards me. She peered up at my skin. “A scorpion. A fucking scorpion?” She shook her head, blushing, and I finally knew that this woman didn’t make it a habit of cursing.

I knew I should’ve heeded Monty’s advice to cover my tat up. But it was too fucking late for coulda-woulda-shoulda bullshit. If Amor wanted to drop me because of one awesome ink job I’d had done years ago, she could be my guest. I didn’t need this crap. Still, I felt like I had to explain myself.

“I’m a Scorpio. Don’t believe in that shit but I got it done anyway.”

“Were they high?” she muttered, unaware that I could hear her. “Why you? No one’s going to believe I’d be dating someone like you!”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Right backatcha.” ‘Someone like you’ translated to ‘I’m better than you and everyone will know it’.

There was a knock at the door and a woman’s high-pitched voice wafted in. “Amor? I know you’re in here. Someone saw you,” she yelled. “We’re about to cut the cake.”

“Great. My sister.” Amor shook her head, biting her bottom lip. She looked so worried, so vulnerable. Something compelled me to at least try to alleviate her worries.

“Look, I’m good at what I do, okay?” I told her, meeting her intense brown eyes. “By the time the night is over, everyone will think you’ve fallen in love with someone else.” I loosed my tie, which practically had me in a choke-hold. “And call me Ashton.”

“Okay,” she breathed.

“Now come here.”

Slowly, she took the one step that put her flush against me. “What are you –” she started.

“Giving your sister a show,” I interjected, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her blouse. The lace lining at the top of her cleavage peeked out at me from the inside. “I take my job very seriously.” I couldn’t resist running my fingertips against the soft skin of her collarbone, smirking when she reddened. For someone who talked about sex on the radio, Amor Page blushed a hell of a lot.

“It’s not necessary,” she said in a rush.

“It is to me,” I told her, aware that my voice was husky and my balls were heavy.

Before I did something I’d regret, I unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal Amor’s very heavily pregnant dark-haired woman sister. I felt Amor stiffen beside me.

“I thought Vic was in here.” The woman gave me an evil eye.

“Didn’t I tell you? Vic and I...we’re over,” Amor told her, receiving a look of shock from her sister.

“Ashton West.” I stuck a hand out to clasp her sister’s. “Pleased to meet you.” It hit me just then that I’d given someone my full name while on the job. Monty would not be amused.

“Um...right. I...I’ll just... Is that a scorpion?”

“Correct. You have very good vision,” I replied in a dry voice. I turned to Amor. “Babe, your buttons are undone.”

Flushing, she quickly buttoned up. “Right. Thanks. Shall we...? Grace, the cake?”

Grace shook her head. “Of course.” And she waddled away in what I assumed was as quick as she possibly could.

Amor gave me a dirty look. “Way to go. Babe? No one will believe this.”

“I’m great at long-term. In fact, I’m the best,” I informed her, unable to resist seeing if she fit against me by wrapping an arm around her waist. “You just need to chill and remember the story of how we fell in love.”

She trembled at my touch. “Oh, this’ll be good. Do tell me how we fell in love.”

I slowly trailed a hand along her hipbone, driving myself crazy in the process. “I’m your new lawyer,” I said gently. “It was love at first consultation.”

Amor snorted, still allowing me to touch her. “You? A lawyer?”

Because I got that a lot, I simply replied, “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Amor. I really was a lawyer.”

“And what?” she sneered. “You decided male prostitution paid better?”

I frowned, letting her go. “I’m insulted.”

“I have no doubt that, despite the agency’s strict no-sex policy, you take a little extra for cunnilingus.”

I stared at her, wondering if we were discussing the same agency. No sex? But then I remembered that Monty was very hush-hush about that part of her escorts’ services. Recovering, I let out a laugh at Amor’s use of such an un-sexy term for giving head. “People still use that word? It’s oral, woman. Oral.”

“Shut it, OK? I’m hyperventilating here,” she mumbled, reddening once more. It was incredibly easy to make her blush. “I date men with class and you...you have no class.”

Now, see, that was just cruel.

“According to your file, you don’t date at all. And jeez, Victor? I think you’re the only female out there who could possibly think of Victor in a romantic way,” I said spitefully, before I could catch myself.

“Victor’s stable,” Amor retorted. “He’s normal. But you wouldn’t know any of that because you’re...this.” She gestured at me. “Besides, I wasn’t romantically involved with him. It was strictly business.”

“Right,” I muttered through clenched teeth. She’d just called me unstable. I was torn between scoffing at her, or throwing her against the wall and sticking my hand down her pants and into the heat of her cunt. “Look, I’m starving, so shall we?” I held out an arm.

She reluctantly took it. “Just keep your mouth shut. Speak when spoken to and even then, keep your answers simple.”

“Sure, Mom,” I mumbled as we stepped out into the bright lights.

“I’m serious. This is my life,” Amor hissed at me.

I looked down at her. “And this is my job.”

She refused to meet my eye and said in one breath, “Oh, and absolutely no talk about our imaginary sex life, okay?”

I slid her a curious glance because, let’s face it, she was the one bringing it up. “Whatever.”

I was trying to be cool about it but her words had planted a hundred dirty images in my filthy mind, all of them involving the word “come”. I knew then and there that this woman, who I could already tell was a bunch of contradictions, would make me break my own rules and never regret them.

One day, Amor Page was going to suck the scorpion on my neck.

And she was going to fucking come while doing it.

~FIN~