Uncomplicated: A Vegas Girl's Tale

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Authors: Dawn Robertson,Jo-Anna Walker

BOOK: Uncomplicated: A Vegas Girl's Tale
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Table of Contents

Copyrights

Dedications

 

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue

 

Preview of This Girl Stripped

 

Preview of Possessed by You

 

Preview of Pursuit

 

About Dawn

 

About Jo-Anna

 

U
NCOMPLICATED
Copyright 2013 Dawn Robertson and Jo-Anna Walker
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

This book is dedicated to:

all of the women who worked tirelessly to read, beta, edit, and help it become the amazing novel it turned out to be. Brenda Wright, Rachel Mizer, Shoutlines Design for the gorgeous cover.

Our family and friends for always supporting our ventures.

The bloggers who have stood at our side through this.

And you.

Every single reader.

Because without you, we wouldn't have written this to begin with.

Enjoy Uncomplicated.

When people think of call girls, they think of whores. Emotionally ruined little girls with some sort of daddy complex, aching to compensate for something missing in their lives. For a good portion of the girls I have met, this is a pretty on point assumption; but for me, it couldn’t be any further from the truth.

I can’t remember the exact moment I decided I wanted to become a high paid whore, but I think it was around the time I arrived in Vegas for a temporary modeling job.

Truth be told, I am not your usual blonde bombshell, not what most think of when you say
call girl
. My short, thick frame and natural fiery red hair makes me stand out in a crowd. The Irish that runs through my veins is a fucking curse some days.

But this is the life I have chosen to make for myself. I haven’t been forced, or coerced. I am not a victim, I am a fucking badass business woman.

I am Jenny Sunshine and this is my story.

M
ODESTY

(Jenny)

Everything about my life is modest. My every day clothing covers more than the average woman in Las Vegas, my studio apartment is simple, and the black Jeep Liberty I drive has seen better days. I’ve never been a girl into material possessions, being raised in the Midwest by God-fearing parents is probably the root of that; and I genuinely appreciate it.

It was Friday morning, my first free day of the week. My typical shift at Dr. Jeffrey’s office ran Tuesday thru Thursday, and that is more than enough for my taste. Call me a prude, or just a flat out bitch, but I just can’t deal with the catty broads that run that place. I have never been the girl with a bunch of girlfriends. If anything, the girls always called me a whore because I was a tom-boy, hanging out with all the guys. Whatever, at least I knew which guys were dogs. And I can still pick those same assholes out of a crowd.

Which brings me to why I don’t date. Have you ever been to Las Vegas? Yeah, it is a tourist city, most people are just passing through, and the men who choose to make a life there have some kind of douchebagery complex. The pussy is plenty, the alcohol constantly flows, and it doesn’t cost much to get laid. Unless it is my cunt you wanna inside.

My job got the itch scratched. It filled my bank account, the only thing in my life that can’t fall under the description of modest; but I would never tell my parents that.

The phone ringing distracted me from my early morning musings about life. Rolling over and eying the clock, it was only 8 AM. My mother really needed to start taking into consideration the time difference.

“Momma, you really need to remember the time difference.” I let out a laugh as she gasped on the other end of the line, confirming that once again, she truly forgot.

“I’m so sorry Jenny, darlin’,” her country twang flooded though the line.

I miss home. I truly do, but there is nothing to go back to other than my parents. Which simply wasn’t enough for me.

“When are you comin’ home to finally make your Papa happy? He misses you, and you know we can’t come out there.” Can’t? Not exactly. More like won’t. Something about visiting a place called
Sin City
never appealed to them.

“Momma, we’ve been through this. I can’t take the time off from work.” The line clicked signaling an incoming call, and just as my mother started to gossip about all the bumpkin’s back home I couldn’t give two shits about, I was able to cut her off with a legit reason.

“Momma, I gotta take this call. Love you.” And I disconnected the call. I cleared my throat and answer with the sexiest most sultry
hello
I can put together so early in the damn morning.

“Sunshine, my love,” Jude Emerson sang sweetly into the other end of the line. The thirty-something international businessman from London was always up for a good time. “I would love to spend the evening with you, but I have a special request.”

“And that would be what, Jude?” I pulled no punches when it comes to my time, it is a simple yes or no. I made the final call on anything I get myself involved with. I can already tell he is walking on eggshells just from the tamed tone in his normally playful voice. He was trying to sweet talk me.

“I would like someone to join us this evening. I have a lady companion I am traveling with. Her name is Lily and she is
interested
.”

I’ve heard worse. Hell, I’ve done worse in the name of
experimentation
.

“You know that will increase my fee for the night, Jude.” I was to the point because I didn’t want to let on that I like some clients in a more than business manner. Hell, he is the type all women dream of bringing home to their parents. Thick blond shaggy hair, with a five o’clock shadow at all damn times. I often fantasized what he would look like first thing in the morning after a clean shave. Dark honey eyes that sparkled with absolute mischief, and a bank roll that could buy a small fucking country, adopt half the orphans of the world, and feed Sally Struthers for a year.

“Of course, love. That is no problem. You name the price and it’s as good as done.”

Doubling my fee for the night would rake in enough to pay my rent for six months.

“Five thousand. See you at the Hard Rock at eight. I will be checked in under Jennifer Sunshine, as always,” and I disconnected the line.
A female companion, huh?
This will make for a fun night.

“Jude is gonna pay fuckin’ five grand for you tonight?” Nora gasped into the other end of the phone as I carefully shaved my legs in the bathtub. My best friend just so happened to be a high paid whore also. I had no friends in Vegas when I met the blue-eyed blonde bombshell, she took me under her wing while showing me the ropes of the call girl game. I owed her a lot, but she would never collect. She was good like that.

Jude was a man we have had the opportunity of sharing in the past. His love for two women at once was nothing new and his ability to fuck like Don Juan all night long was something I loved about him. Not that I should love anything about a client. The lines just continued to get blurred when it came to Jude. As always.

“Yup, five grand and he gets me for two hours. I was surprised he is bringin’ his own lady friend though. You think he is finally settling down?” I let out a short laugh, not because I am shocked at the idea, but because I need to mask the pang of hurt I felt saying the words. I’ve never crossed the line with a client. Not once. Ever. But Jude always made me think about the what ifs. What if he wanted more? What if I let him have more? What if I gave up my way of life for him? I shook my head, trying to get into the right frame of mind for the night. Two more hours and I would be checking into the hotel room for our night. For work. Only work, I continued to remind myself.

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