anything. I’m not even going to have sex with you. I’m going to show you things, broaden your horizons, and when I think you’re ready, when you’ve proved you can enjoy yourself while not in control, then I might consider letting you fuck me. How about that?”
“You’re very self-confident. Maybe I don’t want to have sex with you.”
“Hmm,” I said, belting down the road and drawing to a screeching stop at the junction. “Oh, I think you do, otherwise, why did you come home with me? You wanted to have sex with me but on your terms. I turned the tables, that’s all. Isn’t it exciting?” I zoomed left and headed towards the seedier side of town.
“Exciting? I wouldn’t say that. More like unsettling.” He rubbed his palms over his thighs. His long legs were a bit short on space in my small car.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Let go of that prissy attitude, Victor. You certainly didn’t have that at the coffee shop. You were all confidence and look-at-me-I’m-gorgeous. Sexy as hell, I think you said at one point.”
“Neither of us are who we thought we were, then.” He stilled his hands.
If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d sounded grumpy, petulant. Oh, I’d soon have him eating out of my hand. Or from between my legs.
“Just relax, okay?” I said, turning right down King Street.
“What are we doing here?” He slumped down in his seat, barely managing to see out of the windshield. “Isn’t this where…?”
“Yes, but not all the working girls sell themselves on the corners, pretty boy. Some of them work indoors. Like me.”
Chapter Two
“What the bloody hell is this place?” Victor asked. “And what did you mean by what you just said?”
We stood in an alleyway, the flat, square cobbles wet from the recent rain and glistening from the orange glow of a streetlight out on the road. A row of buildings flanked the alley, all dark red brick with even darker red doors and small windows on the first and second levels. The buildings were like something out of the nineteen-twenties, maybe originally an old mill or something. I knocked on a door with the number six proudly displayed in brass and waited for Emma to open it.
“I meant exactly what you thought I meant, and this place is where I work,” I said.
He stared down for a moment, seeming to have trouble processing the change in our location. “So you’re a prostitute?”
“Some would say so, but I don’t sell sex.” I shrugged. “You’ll see.”
The door opened, and Emma, resplendent in knee-high white socks, a short, pleated grey skirt, and a white blouse, beamed her usual smile. Her blonde pigtails swung to a stop. “Oh, are you on tonight, Zara?”
“No,” I said, taking Victor’s hand and dragging him inside towards the pine reception desk. “I’ve brought a friend to have a looksee.” I nodded at Victor.
Emma shut then locked the door. “A virgin?” she asked, walking behind her desk and plonking herself onto a chair.
Victor inflated his chest—something I suspected he did a lot of when his masculinity was called into question. “I’m not a virgin!”
“Not that kind of virgin,” I said, swatting him lightly on his arse, then looked at Emma. “Yes, a virgin, so we’ll just be watching tonight.”
“Room four’s free,” she said, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger, her gaze slipping down Victor’s tall, lean frame.
I couldn’t blame her, he was quite a catch.
“Who’s on display?” I asked.
“Julie.” Emma smiled again and swept her tongue over her top lip.
“Oh, Lord.” I studied Victor. “Are you sure you know everything?”
“Stop it,” he said. “We’ve already established I don’t.” He stared at Emma, jerking his head sideways at me. “Is she always this bossy?”
“If you think this is bossy, wait until she really gets going,” Emma said, leaning back in her chair to plonk her black flatties on the desk.
Victor swiped a hand across his brow.
“Come
“You’re very self-confident. Maybe I don’t want to have sex with you.”
“Hmm,” I said, belting down the road and drawing to a screeching stop at the junction. “Oh, I think you do, otherwise, why did you come home with me? You wanted to have sex with me but on your terms. I turned the tables, that’s all. Isn’t it exciting?” I zoomed left and headed towards the seedier side of town.
“Exciting? I wouldn’t say that. More like unsettling.” He rubbed his palms over his thighs. His long legs were a bit short on space in my small car.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Let go of that prissy attitude, Victor. You certainly didn’t have that at the coffee shop. You were all confidence and look-at-me-I’m-gorgeous. Sexy as hell, I think you said at one point.”
“Neither of us are who we thought we were, then.” He stilled his hands.
If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d sounded grumpy, petulant. Oh, I’d soon have him eating out of my hand. Or from between my legs.
“Just relax, okay?” I said, turning right down King Street.
“What are we doing here?” He slumped down in his seat, barely managing to see out of the windshield. “Isn’t this where…?”
“Yes, but not all the working girls sell themselves on the corners, pretty boy. Some of them work indoors. Like me.”
Chapter Two
“What the bloody hell is this place?” Victor asked. “And what did you mean by what you just said?”
We stood in an alleyway, the flat, square cobbles wet from the recent rain and glistening from the orange glow of a streetlight out on the road. A row of buildings flanked the alley, all dark red brick with even darker red doors and small windows on the first and second levels. The buildings were like something out of the nineteen-twenties, maybe originally an old mill or something. I knocked on a door with the number six proudly displayed in brass and waited for Emma to open it.
“I meant exactly what you thought I meant, and this place is where I work,” I said.
He stared down for a moment, seeming to have trouble processing the change in our location. “So you’re a prostitute?”
“Some would say so, but I don’t sell sex.” I shrugged. “You’ll see.”
The door opened, and Emma, resplendent in knee-high white socks, a short, pleated grey skirt, and a white blouse, beamed her usual smile. Her blonde pigtails swung to a stop. “Oh, are you on tonight, Zara?”
“No,” I said, taking Victor’s hand and dragging him inside towards the pine reception desk. “I’ve brought a friend to have a looksee.” I nodded at Victor.
Emma shut then locked the door. “A virgin?” she asked, walking behind her desk and plonking herself onto a chair.
Victor inflated his chest—something I suspected he did a lot of when his masculinity was called into question. “I’m not a virgin!”
“Not that kind of virgin,” I said, swatting him lightly on his arse, then looked at Emma. “Yes, a virgin, so we’ll just be watching tonight.”
“Room four’s free,” she said, twirling one of her pigtails around her finger, her gaze slipping down Victor’s tall, lean frame.
I couldn’t blame her, he was quite a catch.
“Who’s on display?” I asked.
“Julie.” Emma smiled again and swept her tongue over her top lip.
“Oh, Lord.” I studied Victor. “Are you sure you know everything?”
“Stop it,” he said. “We’ve already established I don’t.” He stared at Emma, jerking his head sideways at me. “Is she always this bossy?”
“If you think this is bossy, wait until she really gets going,” Emma said, leaning back in her chair to plonk her black flatties on the desk.
Victor swiped a hand across his brow.
“Come
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