Prologue
Robert
Eight years ago
I was in a rush. I was always in a rush. I lived my life scrambling from one thing to the next. I was in my second year of college at one of the best undergraduate programs in the country and I was top of my class. I was pre-law and planned to go to law school when I graduated in two years. I was nineteen years old and knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I had it all mapped out.
I was smart. I was capable. I had a bright future ahead of me.
And I was going to drown if I wasn’t careful.
I checked the time. I was already running late. That wouldn’t do. Robert Jenkins didn’t do “late.” I grabbed my duffle bag with my work ‘uniform’ and tried to find my keys somewhere in the mess that I called a dorm. I had been lucky to secure campus accommodation, otherwise, I’d never been able to afford to live in Philadelphia.
I was also lucky that I had been able to get enough financial aid to cover my costs. Sure, I’d have a mountain of loans to pay off once I graduated but I’d have to worry about that later.
My phone rang and I thought about not answering it. If I were more than ten minutes late my boss Darla would give my shift to someone else. And I couldn’t afford that. But I also knew it could be my mom. I didn’t want her to worry if she couldn’t get hold of me.
“Hello?”
“Rob, you’re home!” It was my mom and she sounded relieved to hear my voice. My guts twisted into uncomfortable knots of concern. I braced myself for whatever storm approached.
“Hey, Ma. I was just heading off to work,” I told her, making it clear I couldn’t talk long. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to my mother. I loved her. More than anything. She had always been my loudest cheerleader. She couldn’t be prouder of her eldest son graduating top of his class from high school and going pre-law at one of the best colleges in the country. She bragged to everyone about her genius kid. She had spent the last five years caring for my dad as he slowly wasted away from bowel cancer. When he died last year I hated how relieved I had been. Mostly that he was no longer in pain, but also so that my mother could have some semblance of her life back.
“I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re still able to visit Sam on Saturday. He’s very excited to see you.”
My guts twisted tighter. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll take the bus to the house and we can head over together.”
“I’m going to make him some of his favorite peanut butter bars. He so loves them.” I could hear the guilt in her voice. I could feel it like a physical thing. My mom had made the painful decision to put my younger brother, Sam, in residential care six months ago. It was a great facility and he was getting the absolute best care. The truth was my mother couldn’t care for Sam on her own. My brother, older by eighteen months, was born with Downs Syndrome. He had never been able to attend a regular school setting, requiring my mother to homeschool him to the best of her ability. Sam was also born with congenital heart disease that required frequent medical attention. Between my father’s cancer and my brother’s increasing demands, my mother was ill-equipped to handle the pressure. My brother’s social worker suggested residential care, which my mother was adamantly against at first. She wouldn’t have it. Her son belonged at home with her. She’d figure it out. But as my brother grew bigger and his fits became increasingly more violent, his needs increased to the point where she had to admit it was more than she could deal with. But there was the problem of cost. She wouldn’t ever allow Sam to live in a less than the amazing center. But my family wasn’t wealthy. My dad and brother’s continuous healthcare costs had eaten up what little money they had.
So that’s where I stepped in. Riding to the rescue like I always did.
My grandmother used to joke that I had been born wearing a superhero cape. From an early age, I took the role of a familial hero seriously. Whether it was sticking up for my brother against the neighborhood bullies or doing the laundry so my mom could get a few hours of sleep while my dad was resting and my brother was watching Aladdin, his favorite movie, for the thousandth time.
It was a hard role to have, but it was one I embraced wholeheartedly. I had no other choice but to be the guy they all counted on. It was ingrained in my DNA.
“I hope you can save some for me. I’ll fight Sam for them, if I have to,” I teased, finally finding my keys beneath a pile of clothes. I was a total slob and my tiny space was littered with so much debris it made walking to the door difficult. The dorms were shit. I was one of the lucky ones not to be saddled with a random roommate. I had secured a single room, but it was still awful especially with the thumping base from my neighbor’s techno music at all hours of the night; I freaking hated it. I fantasized about the day I could have a nice, big house with walls that weren’t paper-thin. I had grown up with barely enough and I longed for the days I didn’t have to worry about money all the time. Which is why I was working my ass off to be something better. Something more.
“I’m making lemon bars for you, don’t worry,” Mom laughed and my chest tightened. She may not have much, but she gave her kids everything she had. My mother was the best person I had ever known and I wanted nothing more than to make her faith in me justified.
“You’re the best, Ma.” I closed the door behind me and headed down the stairs, saying hello to a few people I passed on the way.
“I just want you and Sam to always know I love you. He knows that, doesn’t he? I don’t want Sam to think I’ve abandoned him. Do you think he thinks that?” I could hear Mom’s voice wobble and I knew she was close to tears. Being separated from Sam was hard for her. Harder now Dad was gone and I lived thirty minutes away. But I knew Sam was in the best place he could be and lately my phone calls with Mom had been a lot of reassurances about it.
“Lakewood House is one of the best facilities in the country. Sam’s getting top-notch care. He’s happy. Don’t you remember how excited he was about the picture he made in art class?” What I was saying was true. I had never seen my brother as happy as he had been since moving to Lakewood House. The staff was well-trained and compassionate. There were tons of activities and classes for Sam to take. He was learning a modicum of independence and he was making friends. In truth, he was getting more out of life now that he was living away from my mother than he would ever have if he stayed home. But of course, I’d never say that. I would never do anything to make my mother feel worse. It was better to hide and lie than tell her all the truth.
I heard Mom’s heavy sigh. “You’re right. He’s happy. I need to remember that.” She sniffed a little but she hadn’t devolved into tears, which I considered a victory. Growing up, my mother was the strongest woman I had ever known. I could remember the times she cried on one hand. Since Dad had died and Sam had gone to live at Lakewood House she was still strong, but she was also more prone to sobbing and emotional outbursts. She had lost so much; she was entitled to her tears. But it still broke my heart and made me feel helpless.
That’s why she would never, ever know what it took to keep Sam in his fancy residential home and her mortgage paid. She couldn’t know. It would kill off the last of her.
“I can’t believe what this job of yours is paying you. All that money to do a little filing? And it’s not interfering with your school work, right? Because I could figure out how to pay for everything. I’m sure there’s some financial aid—”
“I’ve got it covered, Ma, don’t worry. I’d tell you if it was too much,” I reassured her, once again lying through my teeth. I checked the time. Shit. I was officially late. “But I really have to go. I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Ok, my sweet. I love you.” Words that twisted like a knife.
“I love you too,” I replied, hanging up the phone.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and ran out the door, hoping I could make it in time to keep my shift.
**
The Landing Strip was busy even though it was a Wednesday night. But it was half off cocktails before ten, so it usually brought a lot of people through the door. The music was loud and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and aftershave. Strobe lights flashed and the smoke machine was going while my buddy, Franklin—otherwise known as Officer Spank—was gyrating his hips in his tiny G-string, wearing a British-style police cap on his head. I could see from my spot at the back of the stage that he had overdone it with the baby oil. He was going to fall on his ass if he wasn’t careful.
“You’re late, Rob,” Darla Tiedwich snapped once she caught sight of me in the dressing room.
“Sorry. Won’t happen again.” I didn’t bother to give her excuses, she wouldn’t care. Instead, I dug out my costume, a tight-fitting suit that I could easily rip off when the time was right. Once Darla had found out I was in school to become a lawyer she had dubbed me “Billy the Sexy Barrister” as my stage name. The ladies—and some of the men—definitely seemed to like it. I made money hand over fist. Recently Darla had started putting me on for the shower shows. There were three showers installed in the back of the club, encased in clear glass, where people could pay me 300 bucks to watch me take a shower. It sounded crazy but women went nuts for it. It was funny what a little soap and water could do to turn people on.
“I’ve given your shower spot to Jeremy,” she informed me and my stomach dropped. The showers were where I made most of my money. I could do up to twelve showers in a shift, which was a good chunk of change even after the club took its cut.
“Darla, please. I need that money tonight—” I started to say but she held up her hand, cutting me off.
“Someone’s hired you for a private dance. Paid a g for the privilege,” she said, practically licking her lips. Private dances had to be requested and were reserved for certain high-paying clients. I had never been requested before. My stomach flipped over. It was common knowledge that the private dances usually involved...other things. There were no cameras or bouncers in the secluded rooms and the usual rules of “no touching” weren’t adhered to.
Was I expected to have sex with this person?
I couldn’t do that.
Stripping was one thing. I actually enjoyed that part. It was sexy and hot and made me feel alive. I had always been a dweeb in high school. Growing up, I was the runt, not hitting a growth spurt until I turned sixteen. I didn’t go on a date until I was seventeen and about to graduate. I was the shy, smart kid who kept to himself. Not much changed when I went off to college either. It was hard for me to break out of my shell and meet people. I didn’t do parties or bar crawls because I wasn’t a drinker—never had a head for the stuff. I was definitely an outlier when it came to the whole college experience. I was awkward and small talk didn’t come naturally to me. I was the guy either friend-zoned or overlooked completely.
Not much changed for me in college. Not at first anyway. I was still the quiet, smart guy. Sure I got the attention of women—I knew I was good-looking in my way—but once my natural awkwardness took over, they typically lost any interest. Looks only get you so far.
I didn’t know what made me go to the open call for exotic dancers at The Landing Strip. The online ad promised it had the potential to make you lots of money. Mom and I were looking into residential facilities for Sam and the decent ones were way more than my mother could afford. Insurance would only cover so much, so the cash drew me in. The unexpected buzz of being on stage, transforming into someone completely different, was what kept me there.
Darla had seen something in me. She said I had a nice face but it was my “aura” that made her hire me. I hadn’t known what she meant, but apparently, I had a sexy, mysterious thing about me that you couldn’t teach. She told me to start working on my body. She had another stripper named Mike to share with me his high-intensity workout meant to bulk me up. “Women don’t want scrawny. We want to see your muscles,” Darla stated in her usual gruff way.
I started working out five times a week. I lifted weights and started running. Over time I developed a nice set of abs. I would never have a body builder’s physique—I wasn’t made that way—but I was toned and hard. The first night on stage was both the worst and best experience of my life. I had moved like there was a steel rod shoved up my ass, but the women loved me. They shoved so many bills down my tiny G-string that it looked ridiculous. I made three hundred and fifty dollars that night. I started putting half of my nightly tips aside to pay for my brother and mother’s care. And once I had been dancing long enough, I even developed a bit of a following. Despite this, I had never been requested for a private dance.
Until now.
“Okay,” I said, my voice a little high pitched.
Darla raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on my very obvious nerves. She expected us to do our job and not bitch about it. “She’s waiting in the 70’s room.” She shooed me and I quickly made my way to the narrow hallway at the back of the club. There were three rooms, doors all closed. Each had a “theme,” if you could call it that. The 70’s room was complete with shag carpet and tacky wallpaper. It looked like the set of a bad porno. Which, I guess was the point.
I braced myself before opening the door.
I could do this. It’s a thousand dollars! That was a lot of money. It was for one hour of my time. That was it.
I’d worry about the shame later.
I opened the door.
“Hi there,” I said, affecting a sultry tone. I slipped into my role seamlessly. I was a sex god. I was the alpha hero of their smutty fantasies.
The woman was sitting casually in a two-person velvet-lined chair sipping dark liquor from a highball glass, her long legs crossed. “Hi,” she greeted, her voice smokey and deep.
She was older, but she wore her age well. If I was a betting man, I’d say she was at least forty. And she was hot, with a body that was curvy but toned. She wore tight-fitting jeans and a low-cut blouse. Her boobs were massive and practically spilled out of her shirt. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head. She wore quite a bit of makeup, but it looked good on her.
I walked further into the room, unsure of how this was supposed to go. Was I meant to start dancing right away? Talk to her first? It would have been nice if Darla would have given me some pointers.
The woman watched me, her eyes sizing me up. She had paid well for my time so she clearly wasn’t going to hide her interest. She licked her lips. “You’re prettier up close,” she rasped, giving me a steamy smile.
“Thanks,” I said lamely. What do you say to something like that?
The woman crooked her finger, beckoning me closer. “Come here.”
Shit. Okay.
I strolled over, trying to act unaffected, even though I had started sweating like a pig. I stopped in front of her. She tilted her head back and took me in. “You’re positively yummy.”
I licked my lips and gave her a slow, seductive smile. “Would you like to eat me?” Ugh. I felt so cheesy saying it but figured I had a part to play, might as well go all out.
The woman cocked her head and then after a beat started laughing. I blinked, unsure what to do. Was she laughing at me? When she was finally able to get herself under control she patted the cushion beside her. “You’re nervous. That’s cute. Sit down. Talk to me a little bit.”
“Don’t you want me to dance for you?” I asked, confused.
She smiled, the expression was full of promise. “Eventually. But not yet. I’m a firm believer in delaying gratification. It makes things so much more...tantalizing.”
Alright then.
I sat down beside her. The chair, while deep and wide, still had me pressed up against her. I towered over her. I wasn’t a big guy but she was a small woman. I liked that about her. And she smelled good. Like honeysuckle. From my position, I could see straight down her shirt and she had one fine set of tits.
She took another slow drink of what I could now smell was whiskey. “I’ve seen you dance many times, Billy is it?”
I chuckled. “Oh yeah? I’m guessing you like what you saw otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”
She laughed too. I liked the sound of it. Rich and low. Like her speaking voice. She really was hot. “I liked what I saw. More than that, I loved it.” She looked up at me. “I’m assuming Billy isn’t your actual name.” She held out her hand for me to shake, which I did so a little awkwardly. “My name is Tiffany.” She withdrew her palm delicately. “If you don’t want to tell me your real name, that’s fine, but it’s also okay if you want to tell me.”
Our stage names were our stage names for a reason. The dancers needed a level of distance between what they do on stage and their actual lives. It was a safety measure first and a privacy measure last. Darla had been clear never to reveal your real name. “These people aren’t here to know the real you. They want the fantasy you create for them,” she had said to me on my first night of work and I had been careful to remember that.
Tiffany’s eyes were a pretty blue. Her skin was remarkably unlined, but I could tell she had had work done. Botox probably from the smoothness of her forehead. “You’re a person first, Billy. Remember that.”
“Robert. My name is Robert,” I found myself saying, inwardly cringing at breaking Darla’s number one rule.
Tiffany’s answering smile wasn’t steamy or sexy or sultry. It was simply lovely. “Robert. It suits you. But can I call you Robbie?”
Ugh. I hated the nickname Robbie, but she was the one paying for this whole exchange, so I guess what the customer wanted the customer got. I nodded. “Sure.”
She took another long drink of her whiskey then handed the glass to me. “Here, have some. You must be thirsty. They sure do keep it hot in here.” She fanned her face with her hand. “I guess it makes it more comfortable when you take your clothes off.” She lifted an eyebrow and I found myself relaxing. There was something easy about Tiffany. Despite the weird situation, it almost felt like we were just two people hanging out.
I took a drink of the whiskey, enjoying the way it warmed my belly. I handed the glass back to her but she waved it off. “You take the rest. It’s already gone right to my head.”
I knocked back the rest of the drink and put the glass on the table against the wall. “Should I start—?”
“So tell me, Robbie, what do you do when you’re not taking your clothes off?” Tiffany interrupted, putting her hand on my thigh. I would have thought it an innocent gesture if not for the way she curled her fingers into my flesh. Or how close her thumb rested to my ball sack.
“I’m pre-law. I plan to go to law school when I graduate,” I found myself telling her. She had started rubbing her thumb in gentle, persistent circles. The tip of her nail brushed against the material over my balls. My groin tightened in response. I couldn’t help it. The whiskey had gone to my head and I was definitely buzzed. I had never been much of a drinker.
Tiffany’s face brightened. “Law school? Wow! You must be so smart.” She angled her body toward me, her hand inching further up my thigh until she was practically cupping my junk. This wasn’t going at all how I expected it to, but I found myself going with it. Enjoying it even. I like the way she made me feel like the most amazing, interesting man in the world. Men are egotistical creatures by nature. Get a guy talking about himself and act like it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard and we’re eating out of the palm of your hand.
No one said males were particularly deep.
“I guess so,” I shrugged, enjoying her attention.
“What kind of law do you want to practice?” Tiffany asked, seeming to genuinely care about what I had to say.
“I’m not sure yet. I have time to figure it out. But I love the law. I just want to make the world a better place.” God, I sounded like a moron.
Tiffany pressed herself closer to me. “I can see that. I knew as soon as I saw you up on that stage that you were different. You were special.” She lifted her hand from my thigh and placed her fingers on my arm. A soft touch. Intimate even. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
I swallowed thickly.
“I thought you paid for me to dance,” I questioned.
Tiffany smiled. “I paid for your time. What we do with it is our business.”
I started to shake my head. “I can’t just leave. My boss will be pissed—”
“What if I paid for the rest of your shift?” she countered.
“Um…”
“Let me talk to your boss.” Tiffany got to her feet and left me alone in the seventies porn room.
What the hell was going on? Where was this going?
Tiffany seemed like a nice lady. She seemed into me and not just for my body. This entire exchange had thrown me off.
Tiffany returned ten minutes later and motioned for me to follow her. “Darla says it’s fine. Come on. My car’s out front.”
I looked down at the tight-fitting suit with the Velcro seams I was wearing. “I should change.”
Tiffany’s eyes heated. “Don’t. I like it.” Her voice became husky and I knew, without a doubt, where this evening was going.
**
“Ahh, Robbie, oh my god!” Tiffany screamed as I pounded away, my cock thrusting so deeply into her pussy I wondered if she could feel me in her throat.
We had gone back to her apartment—a massive space in the middle of the city. It used to be a warehouse and had been gentrified in the last few years. It was one giant room separated by plants and thin, gauzy dividers.
Tiffany had opened a bottle of wine. We talked a little more. I found myself telling her about my brother. About my financial responsibilities. About how much I wanted to take care of my family. She had a way of getting me to open up. She didn’t prod. She asked me questions. She let me speak without filling the silence. She wasn’t expectant. And because she wasn’t pushy, I found it easy to talk to her. I unloaded on Tiffany in a way I hadn’t spoken to anyone. Ever.
Tiffany had honed the art of active listening and she wielded it like a super power.
I was raw. I was vulnerable. And then she made her move.
She kissed me.
And the next thing I knew, we were in her king-sized bed, our clothes on the floor, and I was balls-deep inside her. Her skin was smooth and I liked the feel of her. I had had sex a total of one other time in my life, but my inexperience didn’t seem to matter to Tiffany.
“Pinch my nipples. Hard,” she barked, arching her back. I did as I was told and she screamed again. I wondered what her neighbors must think.
“Flip me over. I want you to fuck my ass,” she commanded.
“What?” I panted, not sure I heard her correctly. I was starting to feel a little lightheaded. This woman could go for hours.
She sat up and wrapped her legs around my waist, causing me to stop thrusting. She kissed my jaw. “Oh baby, you’re so sweet and innocent. Have you ever stuck your dick in a woman’s ass before?”
“Um, no,” I muttered.
She took my bottom lip between her teeth. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” she purred. “Now flip me over. Don’t be gentle about it. I like it rough.”
She bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. I gripped her hips and pulled out. Then I lifted her and dropped her on her stomach, pressing her face into the pillow. She lifted her ass into the air and I dug my fingers into her flesh as I pushed into her tight, tight asshole. It was weird. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Did it hurt her?
Then I started moving and the grip on my cock was unlike anything I had ever felt before. She seemed to like it. She squirmed beneath me, her screams muffled by the pillow. I kept one hand on the back of her neck, the other digging into the flesh of her firm ass as I pummeled it. Only a few minutes went by before I had to come. I started to pull out but Tiffany stopped me.
“Cum in my ass, Robbie,” she begged.
Not needing any further encouragement, I came so hard I saw spots behind my eyelids. When I was finished I fell onto the bed, pulling her close to me. I figured she’d want to cuddle now. Isn’t that what women wanted?
Tiffany lifted one of my hands and kissed my knuckles before laughing breathlessly. “You’re good at that, sweetheart. Better than most.”
“Thanks,” I said, not knowing how else to respond.
“Now go clean up, we’re not done yet.” She raised her eyebrow provocatively. “Bathroom’s over there.” She pointed across the room to another door.
I did as I was asked, making quick work of washing off. It felt strange using her fancy hand towels that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. When I was finished I went back to her, finding she had rolled onto her back. She looked at me and beckoned me over with a crook of her finger.
I laid back on the bed beside her, draping an arm over her flat stomach. I looked down into her face. Most of her makeup had been rubbed off and she looked much older now. Maybe older than I originally thought. I wasn’t about to ask her age. My mother had raised me not to be rude. “You haven’t had much experience though, have you? Were you a virgin?”
I felt myself get defensive. “No. I wasn’t a virgin!” I exclaimed indignantly.
She laughed again and kissed my rigid mouth. “You’re so damn cute when you’re offended. I’m just saying there’s an innocence about you that’s sexy as hell. It makes me want to do very, very naughty things to you.” She ran her hand down my front and took my cock in her hand. I felt myself start to harden again. She giggled. “You’re so responsive. That’s a good thing.” She licked the underside of my jaw. “I’ve been with a lot of men in my life, but none have tasted quite as good as you, Robbie baby.”
I pushed her onto her back and fit myself between her legs. “I’m ready if you’re ready.” I started to lean down and kiss her, but she pressed a finger to my mouth, stopping me.
“Do you like working at the strip club?” she asked.
I was taken aback by the question. It was a strange one given what we were currently doing. “Yeah. I do,” I told her, confused.
“Why? What do you like about it?” Her hand was still around my dick, her thumb rubbing the tip in slow, lazy circles. It made it hard to concentrate.
“I like the money. I told you why I need it,” I said.
“Any other reasons?” she murmured, still rubbing the head of my cock with the pad of her thumb.
“I like that women want me,” I groaned as she squeezed me in her grip and started to pump me, slow and steady.
“Oh yeah, baby. They want you all right.” She grinned up at me, watching me closely as she started to jerk me off.
“I like that I can be someone different. I like that it’s an act I get to play,” I continued, my breath becoming shallow.
“And do you like this?” she asked, her hand moving faster. I was going to come again.
“Fucking hell, yeah,” I bellowed, closing my eyes
“You like making women feel good?” she kept on.
“Yes. I do.” I felt the pressure mounting. It was like a hot coil in my belly.
“What if you could do this again?” she asked, pulling her hand away just as I was about to blow my load. I opened my eyes, blinking in bewilderment.
“Huh?”
Tiffany sat up, her tits as perky as a twenty-year-old. They weren’t real, but I didn’t care. She reached for a glass of water on her bedside table and took a sip. “You’re a sweet boy and it’s obvious you need a hand up in the world. What if I could give you that hand up?”
I frowned. “I can take care of myself just fine.”
Tiffany turned to me, her smile tender, if not a little condescending. “I’m not saying you can’t. Perhaps I should have said it another way.” She put her hand on my knee. “What if we can help each other.”
I grinned and put my hand between her legs. “I thought that’s what we were doing.” I wiggled my eyebrows and she chuckled.
“It’s hard to have a conversation when you do things like that, Robbie.”
My grin grew wider. “Why do we need to talk?”
Tiffany spread her legs a little wider, giving me access. But even as I started fingering her, she still wanted to talk. “Stripping makes you good money, right?” I nodded. “Well, there are ways to make double—triple even— while making other women feel as good as you’ve made me feel tonight.” She gasped as I pressed her clit.
Her words gave me pause. I was a smart guy, but for some reason, it was taking me a while to catch on to what she was insinuating. I withdrew my fingers and sat back on my haunches, “What are you suggesting?”
Tiffany laughed again, sitting up. “You’re so naive. I love it.” She ran her other hand down the side of my face. “Robbie, I’m a businesswoman. A successful one too. I earned my first million at the age of thirty. I was able to do that because I have an eye for quality. And Robbie, you’re quality.” She seemed to regard me like someone buying a painting. “Would you like to hear about how I can help you get a slice of that very lucrative pie?”
I was intrigued. She had a way of pulling me in. She was a hell of a saleswoman. “Sure. Tell me.”
Tiffany closed her legs and leaned against the headboard. “I run a very successful business that pairs gorgeous young men, like yourself, with very wealthy, very lonely women.” She watched me as I digested the information. “I find men who need a way to make a lot of money and I help them. But it’s not just about the men, it’s about the women too. There are a lot of women out there that need to feel good about themselves and you’d do that for them. And they’ll love you for it. And pay you handsomely for the privilege of your company. Just as I have.”
She took a cigarette from the drawer and lit it. I watched her draw in a lungful of smoke and slowly exhale. I’d always hated smoking. I thought it made a person look trashy. Not Tiffany Hardwell. She made it look seductive and erotic. Like an old-school Hollywood star.
“You’re saying you run an escort business?” I asked, finally putting the pieces together. I was a smart guy. Smarter than most. But my lack of actual real-world experience was putting me at a disadvantage in this situation. I came across as a total moron.
“Escort sounds so seedy.” She waved her hand. “This is about companionship. Relationship building. You spend time with these women—”
“And have sex with them,” I interrupted.
“If that’s where it goes, then yes,” she agreed. “But it’s not something I push my boys to do. I leave it up to them. Many of them see it as a way of using their...natural gifts...as a way to make others happy. All of my boys enjoy themselves. I make sure of it.” She extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray and took my hands in hers. “You’re special, Robbie. So special. You made me feel alive tonight. I haven’t had an orgasm like that since I was a teenager.” Her eyes flashed. “I want other women to feel the way you made me feel. You have a gift, baby. An incredible gift. And you should be sharing that with the world.”
I ran my hand down my face. “I don’t know—” I started to say. Stripping was one thing, prostitution was another.
“My boys charge a thousand dollars an hour, Robbie,” she interjected, shutting me up.
My mouth went dry.
“A thousand dollars? An hour?”
“I take ten percent, of course. A procurement fee, if you will.”
“Of course,” I croaked, feeling like I had been doused with cold water. One thousand dollars? An hour? That was crazy money!
I could pay for my brother’s fees with only a few nights of work...
Tiffany grinned and nodded. “My clients are very selective. And I only hire the most desirable men.” She ran her fingers up my arm. “And Robbie, my Darling, you are very, very desirable.”
She started kissing my jaw again, her tongue running over my skin. “I don’t know if I can have sex with strangers,” I breathed as she straddled me again, her pussy pressing against my cock.
“Oh sweetheart, I’m a stranger and you fucked me so, so well.” She leaned down and kissed my chest. “You’re a natural. And you can make a lot of money for your family.”
She was incredibly persuasive. Between her words and the way she was moving her body against mine, I couldn’t come up with a decent argument against her suggestion. I was young and out of my depth. But I liked sex and I wanted to take care of my mom and brother. They depended on me. One day I was going to be a successful lawyer. I would fight the good fight.
But for now, I could do this and enjoy the hell out of it.
I lifted Tiffany and settled her back down on my aching cock and we moaned in unison as I filled her. “As long as it always feels like this, I’m in,” I pledged as I started screwing the woman I barely knew.
“You’re going to make us a lot of money, Robbie. You’ll be a god and women will worship you,” she promised as I let her convince me all night long.
