Artful Attractions (8 page)

I haven’t been dancing with her in forever. Most of the time we drink at home and watch TV, vegging out on our couch. Working four days a week with your legs open is hard on the body and mentally exhausting. I have to have a journal to write down each man’s information so I don’t forget key points. It keeps the mental folders for each one at bay. I’d hate to say the wrong thing. It makes for bad business. The journal thing was Brian’s idea. Another one of his seminars was based on it. I’ve stuck with it. I know Becka hasn’t but I’m not sure about the rest of the group.

***

We take the limo to Club Zane, it’s a hot mixed music scene. Andrew and Becka spent the entire trip here making out in the backseat of the limo as Brad and I sat and stared out of the tinted windows, minding our own business. I’m not dressed for this club scene. I’m a hot secretary not a club rat. Or hood rat. Or whatever the hell I’m supposed to look like. It’s not like we’re attending a classy joint. This place smells of sex and alcohol. I’m sure some of my best clients could be selected in here if they made bank.

Andrew with his hot looks and business owner pull, got us right in.

The club is one of the hottest in town. It’s dark with bright lights and cages for dancers. The ceiling has industrial pipes and the floor is smooth concrete. The bar wraps around in a circle with ten skimpily dressed bartenders, including the men. And a bunch of women are running around as shot girls in bright green crop tops and black miniskirts. I’d hate to work here. Getting pawed at all night long and the tips would be good but not enough to keep me satisfied. Brian should come here to recruit. I see some promising candidates. Anyone is better than Lulu.

We all hit the packed bar first. If I dressed like I normally do, the stupid bartender would have addressed me first and not passed me by three times. So much for classiness. Being an escort has its perks.

“Just put all the drinks on my tab, you’re doing great,” Andrew yells into my ear over the music while Brad orders the drinks. He draws the attention of a slutty bartender.

Brad hands me a Corona and we perform a celebratory clink.

Suddenly Wobble Wobble blasts over the speakers and Becka grabs my hand, pulling me from our dates to the dance floor with my beer in hand. Leaving them at the bar to entertain themselves. It’s girl code for ‘dance with me now’. No words need to be spoken and you can’t say no.

Holy shit, how long has it been since we’ve done this? I have no idea. It’s been forever. The club is packed. Alright let’s down. Hell yeah.

I swirl my body, popping my hips. Dropping low when it the song calls for it. I can get down pretty well. Although dancing in a crowd this congregated is difficult. I rub my ass all over the man behind me when I drop. Not that he’s complaining but his date is getting pissed. Giving me the stank-eye.

A tall sexy man in a black tee, cloaked in tats and spiked blue hair comes up behind me and wraps his long thick fingers around my waist to grind. His cock perfectly level with my round cheeks. Escort training 101; do not dance with another man in the presence of your client unless A. They’d like you too or B. They become jealous and it makes them want you more. Men love what they can’t have. Now the question of the night is do I let this sexy beast of a man rub his hot fingers all over me or do I shoo him off?

I reach out and grab Becka by the boob and pull her to me. She giggles, liking my attention.

“What should I do? You know the rules,” I yell next to her ear.

She keeps dancing and places both hands on either of my shoulders rocking to the beat of the next song. “Let me see if I can spot the men and I’ll let you know,” she yells back and gives me a friendly peck on the cheek.

Her eyes roam the crowd to spot our dates. We’re herded like a bunch of cattle and peering through the throng of horny intoxicated adults is a pain. I help her with my peripheral, not wanting to draw more attention to my handsy dance partner.

Her eyes lock and I know she’s located our party.

“They’re drinking at a high table to your right. And they are intently watching us. It’s your call.” She yells.

I shrug and nod, mouthing ‘Thank you.’ And she goes back to dancing and shaking that fine ass of hers. I’m surprised Andrew hasn’t joined her. His hands were roaming all over her body. So the question is to dance or not to dance with blue haired sex machine? I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I turn around to dismiss him and a hand lands on my shoulder. Oh, hell!

“Ty! Oh my god I haven’t seen you in forever,” a man that I’ve escorted before shouts over the music, his hand clamped onto my arm. I shoot the help-me gaze to Becka and she picks it up. Coming to my aid and shooing off blue hair.

“Hi, how are you?” I ask politely, attempting to gently tug my arm out of his hold. It doesn’t work. I can smell the whiskey on his breath and if I remember correctly, this man I escorted three or four times and then the stinginess took over and Brian cut him off cold turkey. He was pissed and I think he even sent a bunch of mail to Brian to deliver to me. But being the great pimp he is he intercepted it and discarded of its contents before I could retrieve them. Thank god for Brian. It would be great for him to be here right now. This man isn’t going to leave. I can see the deep darkness of desire brewing in those dark brown eyes of his. They almost appear black in this lighting. Shit!

“I miss you so much, Ty. Brian said I couldn’t see you anymore. Why couldn’t I?” He whines. And I slowly, with him still attached to me, make our way off the side of the dance floor out of the thick of sweaty friction.

“Sir, please let go of my friend; we were just leaving,” Becka says, rubbing her hand sweetly on top of his, in attempt to not make a scene.

He fires a menacing glare at her and returns a gentle gaze to me. I guess her charms don’t work on the drunken imbeciles. Good try, Becka.

“Listen, I’m sorry, Brian said no more. But I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.” I speak slowly and fluidly to get my point across with an even tone. Staring him straight in the eyes. I can’t show that I am on the verge of panicking inside. I hate this feeling of helplessness. I could make a scene but that’s uncalled for when I shouldn’t have to worry about this at all.

He jerks me closer and I rock on my heels and quickly jam my beer into Becka’s hands, so I don’t lose it.

“You were the best sex I’ve ever had Ty, I want to have it right now. You are going to come with me. I’ll pay you more. I got a better job,” he expresses with a dirty smile. I need a bath already. This man is making my skin crawl.

I jerk away and a death grip is placed on my arm. What the hell is with men and grabbing me this week? Twice in a week. How ironic is that? And this shit hurts worse than Johns.

“We’re leaving,” he barks angrily and starts to yank me across the floor toward the front door. I stumble in my heels trying to pull back but I can’t, the floor is slick with spilled drinks and my heels have no tread. I try everything in my power to pull him off but he keeps towing me along. I yell but the music is so loud and the crowd is so thick and it’s so dark that nobody cares. Double damn-it. I’m about to panic. This man has got to let me go!

Suddenly a thick hand lands on my shoulder to hold me in place.

“Hey!” a familiar deep bellowing voice yells, attracting the attention of a bunch of people.

My captor turns around pissed off. His jaw clinched in anger. 

“This is none of your business, fat man,” my five foot ten abductor snarls at Brad, increasing the pressure on my forearm into deep bruising territory. I wince biting my lip, to keep back the urge to yelp like a wounded animal.

Brads hand magically finds its way around my thin waist, anchoring me to him. His warm front pressed against my back. My butt resting on his upper thighs.

“It is my business, motherfucker, because this is my girlfriend. And I’m not liking the fact that some douche bag is trying to kidnap her,” he snaps, tightening his hold around my stomach. He’s not going to let go. And for some reason I feel safe and at peace. Nothing bad is going to happen to me now. Relief fills my veins.

The asshole’s eyes widen with shock. “Whores don’t have boyfriends, dumbass,” he retorts, annoyed. His eyes peering through thin slits. He looks like the devil without the horns.

“You talk about her like that one more time and I will knock your fucking ass out. Don’t think I won’t. Now let up on my girl’s arm or this is going to get ugly. Trust me, I’m twice your size and my fist is the size of your face.”

We’ve gathered a crowd. It’s not good to have this many onlookers.

“This isn’t over, Ty!” my crazy stalker extraordinaire barks, releasing my arm and runs straight for the front door of the club. Bobbing and weaving through the throng of sweaty sexed up drunks. Brad removes his arm from around my waist and takes a broad step towards the door to track my assailant. I snatch up his hand, pulling him back.

Turning to me his jaw is locked and fury is pouring out of his heated ice blue gaze.

“Please don’t,” I coax gently.

“That man just assaulted you, Alexis. He needs to pay,” Brad states unapologetically, rage fueling his actions.

I love how my name rolls off his tongue. I never realized how much I wished men spoke my real name when they fucked me or even talked with me. Alexis, I always liked my name. It has a sexy ring to it. I know some people hate their name. But I guess I’m one of the lucky ones. 

I wrap my two hands around Brad’s hand. He’s right his clinched fist is huge. I’m sure he could palm a basketball with ease. I tug him closer to me. So we’re toe-to-toe.

“This isn’t the first time this week I’ve been assaulted. It happens sometimes. I deal. You can’t go off playing knight and shining armor for someone like me. Trust me, I’m nothing special,” I frown chewing on my lower lip.

He takes a step forward so our bodies touch. His blue eyes lock into mine and he dips his gaze deep down into my soul. The room fizzes out and suddenly we’re alone, just the two of us. It’s quiet and the only thing I can feel is him. His fist in my hands, his thick body pressed up against me, radiating heat between our cores. My breath hitches and my mouth runs dry like the Sahara.

“You know my mother and sister, Alexis. You are beautiful and intelligent. If I have to defend your honor, I will,” he says and wraps his free hand around my back, splaying across the deep slope above my round rear, compressing my body to his. Melding us together. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. It’s warm and butterflies are fluttering rapidly inside my chest and belly. My heart thumps over and over. Signaling what it shouldn’t be signaling. I can’t like this man. He’s sexy and perfect in most ways that I know. But this isn’t right. Not for a long shot. I’m a glorified hooker and he’s a business owner who doesn’t even know I’m a hooker. I’m matched perfectly with someone like Joseph who is okay with who and what I am. If Brad knew he’d sprint out the door and never look back.  And for that I can never allow myself to feel this ever again. I close my eyes and pop the invisible bubble surrounding us. Everything else fades back into focus and I drop his fist from my grasp and sadly step away from his warmth. Without saying a word. 

“I need to leave Anne. I’m going to take a cab home,” I tell Becka and don’t even wait for a reply. I head outside and hail the first cab I see. It’s going to cost a fortune to get back to Queens from here, but I don’t want to ride the subway this late at night. It’s not particularly safe.

‘Ring, ring, hookah, ring, ring.’ My phone sings. Shit, not again this morning. Come on! I’m supposed to be off today. I hit the silence. ‘Ring, ring, hookah, ring, ring.’ It goes off again. Damn, whoever is calling me this beautiful Sunday morning is relentless.

I put my iPhone to my head.

“What?” I snap into the receiver.

“Well hello to you too beautiful. I trust last night didn’t go as well as anticipated?” Brian asks sweetly. I’m not in the damn mood to hear from my fucking pimp. I want some peace and quiet for once. I want to cleanse my soul. Thanks to this entire past week I can’t think straight. Too much emotion. That’s not good. It’s time to hit up Lolita’s.

I groan. “Last night was fine until I got hustled by an ex-client and was saved by my new one. Who doesn’t even know he’s a client. Who in turn gave me my first set of
real
butterflies in my tummy. I can’t see him again. That’s not a good sign.”

“Er…. Well… That’s what I was ummmmm… calling about.” He hesitates, stammering.

“Oh hell no. I’m not going Brian, you can’t make me. I bring in more revenue than the rest of the girls. You can kiss my ass. I’m not dating Brad again. No way. Never. Give him to somebody else,” I shoot off. I’m not having any part of this. Emotions are dangerous and the fact at his family owns my only safe house is bad enough. No. No and double fucking hell no.

“Just one more night. Please,” he pleads.

“Fuck off Brian. I’m going back to sleep. No, and I do mean no amount of money is going to convince me to date him again.” I hang up.

‘Ring, ring, hooker, ring, ring.’

I grunt frustrated. My teeth clinched.  “Son of a fucking bitch Brian, what do I have to say to get you to leave me the hell alone? No Brad. I know his mom and his sister. He doesn’t know I’m an escort. It’s done,” I yell. I can feel flames about to burst out of my ears. Get the fucking hint, will ya! No, is no!

“Just hear me out,” he begs, his voice low and soft.

“No, I will help you pick another woman out. That is it.” I stand firm. This isn’t going to happen. No way, no how.

“How do you know his family?” he asks calmly, trying to coax me into another comfort zone to calm me down. Fuck him. I play this game too. The good ol’ bait and switch.

“His sister owns the B&B I stay at up north.”

“The one who knows you’re what you are?” His voice jumps a few nervous octaves.

“Yep, Amy. The one and only. That’s another reason why he’s off limits. I want to keep visiting there. I won’t give up my sanctuary to keep you happy. I will quit. Plain and simple,” I argue.

He huffs, obviously exasperated. “Fine, have it your way. But I’m handing over the brother to one of your favorite people and your favorite mother figure to another prostitute. Maybe you should call Amy and ask her how she’d feel about that.”

“Fuck you Brian. Fuck you. I don’t want him to date anyone. I like him. I don’t know if he likes me. But he’s a good person. He doesn’t need a slut. He needs a wife. I’ll never be that to anyone. I can’t be. Send anyone but Lulu. If you send her to him I quit. He needs a good woman, Brian. Just give him somebody to keep him happy for a few days. I don’t even know if he’ll sleep with them. But he’s a man. He might. Why does it matter? I thought this was a one-time gig.”

“Yeah I did too. But Andrew digs Becka and he called this morning saying Brad wanted your phone number. I told him that’s not for sale. So he said he’d pay for another date.”

GRRRR!!!

“Okay. Well, distract him and make him forget about me with someone hot, except Lulu. And when’s the date? I’ll tell Becka.”

“It’s tonight.”

We talk a little more and I hang up, silencing my phone and cozy myself back down into my pillow top mattress, naked. I only sleep in the buff. It gives the body time to breathe. Or that’s what my grandma and mom always told me. I told you; I have a strange family dynamic.

***

“Alexis wake up!” Becka yells and shoves me. I shoot up in bed. Leaving my breasts to fall out from under the covers and give her another naked show.

“What? The house better be on fire,” I sass. She’s already dressed in a skin tight black dress and red heels. Her hair is curled in long ringlets with makeup painted on perfectly.

“It’s not. But I’m heading out on my date with Andrew.”

Whoa! Shit. What time is it?

I peer over at the clock. I slept all damn day. It’s six p.m.

“Ok, have fun. Who’s your double date partner in crime?”

“Mary.” She frowns, disgusted, dusting off her dress with her hands like the thought of Mary is contaminating her somehow.

“Stop it. Mary’s nice. She’s sweet and the lesser of all the evils,” I chastise my best friend, rolling my eyes.

She shrugs, tossing her silky blonde hair over her shoulder. “Yeah but you’re the only want I want to double with. But I get why you don’t want to go. I saw that moment last night. You were hooked.”

I blush and it’s suddenly five hundred degrees in here. I wave my hand next to my face like a fan to cool down.

Becka chuckles, watching me. “You have fun here, I’ll give you the 411 when I get home.” She leans over the mattress and kisses my cheek and then leaves me.

I switch on my thirty-two inch flat screen TV in my bedroom, which sits on my black four drawer Ikea dresser. I snatch my phone off the black nightstand. I have six missed calls, all from Brian. I search my contacts and call the best Chinese joint that delivers and order almond boneless chicken, two egg rolls and wonton soup. Yum. There isn’t shit on cable so I settle for Antiques Roadshow. It’s the only show I can watch the same episode over and over again and it never gets old. How could it? It’s fantastic to see a woman who’s had a painting in her attic for fifty years bring it in to be appraised and find out it’s worth three hundred thousand dollars. I think I’d crap myself. The historical memento alone is enough to make me swoon.

My doorbell buzzes. I slide on my light blue robe and greet a short middle-aged Chinese delivery man with my food all conveniently packed in a brown bag. I hand him thirty and make him keep the change. The better you tip, the better your food and service is. I know because I live it daily. If I get no tip I do a lousy job the next round. If you slide me a few bills I will pay extra special attention to your cock. Plain and simple, money and sex talk. No ifs ands or buts about it.

I eat my food in bed, watch an Antiques Roadshow marathon and around midnight my bestie strolls through the front door.

“Hey!” I call. I refuse to leave this bed. I don’t know if I’m moping or just relaxing. Probably a bit of both.

She comes in, tugs off her red heels and tosses them into the closet with the rest of our shoes and plops herself on my bed. Sprawled out, laying on her back. My bed is much nicer than hers. I splurge on my nightly comfort. Her priorities lie elsewhere. Like a hundred and sixty dollar blue multifunctional vibrator.

“So?” I push. I’m on edge; I really want to know what happened. I missed out. I truthfully deep down didn’t want to but I had to. Emotions are a woman’s worst enemy in my line of work.

“We ate at Diner 12. Another small restaurant Andrew owns in a nicer part of Brooklyn. It was fun and afterward he and I fucked in his office. He’s fairly good in the sack. A little mouthy with degrading comments. But I can deal with some kink.”

I roll my eyes and she laughs. “Oh…. You want to know about Brad?” she teases.

I smack her arm and blush. “Of course. How’d he like Mary?”

“He didn’t.”

My nose crunches perplexed. “Huh?” I bite my lip.

She shrugs and runs her hands down the front of her dress. Smoothing it against her perfectly flat stomach. “I don’t know. They talked cordially throughout the dinner and afterward when we went for a walk. But once Andrew and I snuck off for some alone time, he left and I have a feeling they didn’t end up in the same location.”

“Why?”

She shakes her head with an unknowing expression on her face. “Call Mary or Brian and ask. I’m sure they know. I do not. For not wanting to date this man you sure want to know an awful lot about him.”

“So what? He was chivalrous. It’s hard to come by.” I give her some lame excuse. I know, but it is part of the reason I like him. The more I thought about it today, the more I realized I probably like him more because his sister is Amy, his mom is Ruby and he knows my real name and isn’t a knowledgeable client. Plus I think I’ve acted more real with him than anyone else in years. You can’t date in this profession. It doesn’t work that way. Such is life.

“Yeah, well keep telling yourself that. Just stick with Joseph. I know he makes you happy. I’m gonna shower. See ya in the morn.” She pulls herself off my bed and leaves. I tuck myself back in snuggling under my bright red comforter. It’s beddy-bye time.