Hired Help (2 page)

On Thursday, when she returned home half-tipsy from a dinner with the board of directors, she cracked. She flung the drawer open with a force that catapulted three of Véro’s flimsy notes onto the hardwood floor. She excavated the card and traced the meaty part of her right index finger over the golden numbers. What if?

Her heart thumped beneath her ribcage as she punched in the numbers. She stupidly glanced down at her chest to check if the excessive thudding might be visible but the only thing she noticed was the blood red blouse she’d worn that day.

“Oui,” a voice said, its tone no-nonsense but welcoming enough. “You’ve reached Scarlet.”

“H—Hi,” Olivia stammered, her nerves already shot to pieces. “Samantha Glorieux gave me your number. I’d like to make an appointment.”

“Of course.”
 

“What’s the procedure?” Olivia composed herself. She conjured up the dozens of investor meetings she had successfully led and the hundreds of people she employed.
 

“Give me a time and place and I’ll be there.” A perplexed silence took hold of Olivia. That was it? Wasn’t she supposed to choose? Maybe voice a few preferences? Tell Scarlet she preferred blondes? “I’ll be discreet.” She shouldn’t have made this call half-drunk. She should have thought this through beforehand and picked a hotel where they could meet. Surely she couldn’t let this woman come to her flat.

“The George V. Sunday. Three o’clock.”

“AM or PM?” This question brusquely reminded Olivia of what she was setting herself up for—hardly a Sunday afternoon activity.

“PM. I’ll text you the room number.”

“Excellent. I look forward to it already.” Scarlet’s voice seemed to smile in her ear. “I charge a thousand per hour and only take cash.”

“Okay.” Olivia hid the tremble of surprise in her voice. If Sam was right—and why would she lie?—and this woman was worth every cent, then it would be quite the treat. Or maybe her rates had inflated, just like the price of so many other luxury commodities. “See you Sunday.” Her hands shook when she put down the phone and her brain was trying to keep up with what she’d just done. And that was only the beginning.

* * *

On Sunday Olivia woke from a fitful sleep. She’d invited Sam and Sylvie to dinner the night before, hoping to grill Sam on her past experiences with
the service
. As soon as Sylvie had excused herself to use the ladies room Olivia had grabbed Sam’s hand and told her about the rendez-vous she had planned the next day. By then pure anxiety had started to take over and Olivia was in dire need of some encouraging words. Sam, however, had simply stated that the subject of Scarlet was strictly off limits because
these things need rules and this level of discretion comes at a price
. In other words, the dinner party had only contributed to Olivia’s anxiety, which seemed to be leaking from her pores, drenching her bed sheets with a scent of nervous fear.

She could always cancel. This was, after all, not a service that required a deposit. Olivia drew a bath and dumped in an excessive amount of salts and cleansers. How much cash should she take, anyway? At least enough for three hours, she decided, just in case. This wasn’t a situation in which you wanted to run out of money. And how would the payment go? Up front and, if the need arose, an evaluation and next instalment every hour? And what if the woman wasn’t attractive? She must be quite something to charge an amount like that, but tastes differ and, despite a strong penchant for blondes, Olivia wouldn’t touch certain fair-haired types with a stick. What about the chemistry? Could it just be created by booking a hotel room and showing up? And then there was the million dollar question, or rather, in this particular case, the thousand euro question: how would it make her feel to pay for sex?

When she had bought her apartment Olivia’d had the bathroom redecorated so she could see the sky while bathing. A dark-bellied formation of clouds drifted by. She rubbed some foam over her skin and, just by the slightest touch of her fingers, her nipples stood to attention. She was, admittedly, feeling rather frisky. A renewed sense of vigour seemed to burn in her bones and when she washed between her legs she wasn’t surprised to find her lips swollen and her clit ready for action. She could have done with a stress-relieving orgasm but it seemed so foolish to waste one now when she was paying for multiple later.

After carefully shaving, trimming and waxing, actions she always performed herself, she tugged open her underwear drawer in search of something appropriately skimpy. She could hardly turn up in the boy shorts she secretly found so comfortable. She’d stopped wearing them because they appeared to be an endless source of ridicule for Véronique, but, once she’d given up hope her lover would return, had slipped back into them with a weary ease. Amongst lesbians comfortable shoes might be all the rage, but Olivia could make a waterproof case for comfortable knickers as well. Except to Véronique, but she was the exception to all of her rules. Until now.
 

She picked a black lace thong and matching bra and then embarked on the impossible task of figuring out what to wear on a date with a prostitute. She went for a simple but ridiculously expensive pair of Gucci jeans and a tucked-in navy blouse. When she reached for her bracelet she deemed it an unnecessary accessory and decided against any kind of jewellery. She’d apply her makeup before she left. It was only eleven o’clock and she had four more gruelling hours to kill.
 

* * *

A soft thud on the door announced Scarlet’s arrival. Olivia, who’d touched up her lipstick three times in the half hour since she’d arrived at the hotel, took a deep breath and strutted towards the door. The woman in the hallway wore a long silk dress in the liveliest red Olivia had ever seen. It clung to her well-proportioned shape like a second skin. Olivia stepped back and gestured her to come inside.

“I’m Scarlet,” she said and curved her lips towards Olivia’s cheek. “Enchantée.” Her eyes seemed to devour Olivia, resting on the few patches of skin Olivia had left bare.

“Olivia Gomez.” Olivia had practiced in her head how to get the niceties out of the way, but, despite saying the line out loud to her mirrored self a dozen times, it sounded terribly self-conscious. “So how does this work?”

“Let’s sit for a minute.” Scarlet smiled and with a few gracious strides she had reached the bed. Olivia sat down next to her, paying extra attention to her posture—no slumped shoulders and spine stretched straight—to match Scarlet’s well-educated way of balancing on the edge of a bed. “You pay me up front for the first hour. Before I leave we settle the full amount. After three hours I only charge half and I never stay longer than five hours.” Scarlet plastered a mischievous grin on her face. “So, if you have the stamina, the fifth hour is free.” She slanted her body in Olivia’s direction and found her ear. “And I often do my best work when the clock ticks loudest.” Her red-painted lips arched into another smile. “It’s purely psychological, of course.”

Olivia, suddenly grateful she’d taken out the extra thousand, reached for her purse and peeled two five hundred notes off the stack in her wallet. On her walk to the hotel she’d made a mental list of all the items that could be bought for a thousand euro—a small second hand car, a 3D TV, a quality laptop, a Michael Kors summer dress, the list went on and on. She handed the money to Scarlet who tucked it in a side pocket of the large bag she brought with her.

“A few ground rules,” Scarlet continued. “Please, don’t bring me up in casual conversation with your friends. After five appointments you get referral rights. Women only.” Samantha had paid this woman at least five times to have sex with her? “And I have a non-refund policy.” Scarlet shot her a silly smirk. “Any questions?”

How does someone become a luxury high-end by-referral-only prostitute catering to power lesbians, Olivia thought. “Not at the moment,” she said.

“Well then.” Scarlet extended her right arm, palm lifted skyward. “Let the fun begin.” Olivia sheepishly put her hand into Scarlet’s, who pulled her away from the bed. It seemed so foolish now that Olivia had worried about chemistry or type. Scarlet stood in front of her in her crimson dress, her lips and nails painted in the same colour. Like a bought illusion, Olivia thought and accepted the first kiss.
 

Instant desire shot through her, forcing her skin to crinkle into gooseflesh and her stomach to engage in that dizzy sort of flip she hadn’t been subjected to in a long time. Scarlet’s tongue entered her mouth slowly and smoothly, caressing Olivia’s lips from every angle. Her hands trailed from her shoulders to the naked skin of her neck and when Olivia opened her eyes the only thing she saw in the reflection of the mirror was the red of Scarlet’s nails travelling upward to her cheekbones.

Scarlet gently pushed her towards the wall without letting their lips lose contact. When she finally broke free from Olivia she let her tongue slide over her upper lip and nodded approvingly.
 

“This is going to be fun.”

Olivia couldn’t relax completely yet. Shouldn’t she have offered a drink? Was she allowed to touch everything? Scarlet locked her eyes on Olivia’s and languidly, with the back of her hand, traced a line from her neck, over her breast, until her fingertips rested at Olivia’s belt. She undid the buckle and slid it out of the loops, then appraised it and said, “this may come in handy later.” Scarlet tugged Olivia’s blouse out of her pants. “Excellent taste,” she said while rubbing the fabric between her thumb and index finger.

Scarlet unbuttoned Olivia’s blouse, starting at the bottom and, without touching or exposing any skin, gradually made it to the top. Before she opened the two sides of fabric that covered Olivia’s breasts, she ran her lips all the way up and down Olivia’s neck, more breathing than kissing. She fixed her gaze on Olivia again and, with a tantalisingly slow caress, escorted the blouse down Olivia’s arms until it fell to the floor
.
Olivia stood trembling against the wall, her nipples bulging hard against the lace of her bra. It wasn’t Scarlet’s actions so much—most women knew how to sensually
undress a lover—as the complete confidence she displayed in them, erasing every second thought Olivia’d had about this afternoon. Soon she’d start to wonder why she hadn’t resorted to this earlier.

“Come on,” Scarlet whispered while kicking off her shoes. “Time to test the bed.” Olivia’s glance caught the alarm clock on the night stand. It was three twenty-three but she already knew she was going for the full five hours. She stepped out of her shoes and, having slightly gained composure again, along with the belief that her voice wouldn’t shake too much, addressed Scarlet, “As stunning as that dress looks on you, I think it’s time to take it off.”

“At your service, madam.” Scarlet presented her back to Olivia so she could zip her out of the gown. Her skin was so smooth and evenly bronzed that Olivia suspected Scarlet of coming from another galaxy, or at least another, more sun-kissed area than northern Europe. Scarlet’s ruby dress was now a silk puddle on the hotel room carpet. The only fabric left on her skin was a wine-coloured pair of panties. What a profession, Olivia thought, it doesn’t even require wearing a bra.
 

Scarlet faced Olivia in her almost naked glory and flipped open the button of her jeans. Once they had dropped to the floor as well, forming another mountain of discarded clothing, Scarlet backed onto the bed, her eyes never leaving Olivia’s face. Olivia crawled towards her on all fours, to that promising soft-skinned body that was all hers for the next hours, and looked forward to straddling Scarlet, but, as soon as she approached, Scarlet grabbed her by the wrists and made her lose balance. Scarlet tipped Olivia over and held her arms above her head with one hand, her long fingers pressing firmly into the delicate skin of Olivia’s wrists.

“Don’t move,” Scarlet said while peering deep into Olivia’s eyes. She reached for her bag which stood next to the bed and produced a red silk scarf. “Okay?” Scarlet asked and Olivia wouldn’t dream of declining the offer of being tied up. Scarlet’s breasts, which Olivia was more than ready to devour, swayed up and down while she tightened the scarf around Olivia’s hands and tied her to the bed. “This is why I like the George V,” she said, “the furniture is very functional.”

Scarlet kissed Olivia again and this time, with Scarlet’s naked body pressed firmly against hers, Olivia could feel the heat between her legs. The sensation of not being able to use her hands while Scarlet’s roamed so freely and without inhibitions over her body only added to the storm brewing in her core. This afternoon of hired help wasn’t a question of coming anymore, the real question was how many times it would occur.
 

Scarlet’s fingers stroked her nipples through the lace of her bra until, at last, she lowered the left cup and let one breast, and one extremely erect nipple, break free. As if the nipple wasn’t allowed to be exposed to the outside air, Scarlet covered it immediately with her mouth, licking and nibbling it softly until, Olivia feared, it might explode. Olivia’s thong was soaked by now and she could feel the wetness trickle down between her legs. Scarlet aimed her attention at the other nipple, gently setting it free from the bra and tonguing it until it felt as if it could pierce more than just air.

Olivia was ready to beg Scarlet to fuck her, or at least make her remove the drenched underwear that clung to her. Scarlet’s knee caused friction on her pelvis and Olivia impatiently pushed herself up to increase it, but Scarlet made her wait for it. She trailed a slow line of wet kisses around Olivia’s belly-button and then, finally, after what seemed like ages but had, in real time, only been a few minutes, she buried the tip of her tongue underneath the waistband of Olivia’s thong.

“Take it off,” Olivia pleaded, but all Scarlet did was shoot her a sexy lipstick-smudged smile. She planted moist kiss after moist kiss on Olivia’s inner thighs, each one nearing a bit closer to where it mattered. The first touch of Scarlet’s mouth on her lower lips, on top of the thong, sent a jolt of electricity through Olivia’s body. All her nerves bunched together and screamed for release. Usually, Olivia was a big fan of foreplay, dragging it out for hours on lazy weekend afternoons, but the circumstances of this particular Sunday afternoon made this short time of foreplay feel more like an endurance battle. Scarlet let one finger slip under the fabric of Olivia’s panties.