Текст книги "Weak for Him"

Автор книги: Lyra Parish

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Four

Within minutes, Mr. Felton returned my phone call and asked if I could meet him at his office in the next thirty minutes.

Only one problem, I had no way to get there.

"Sure. I'll be there as soon as I can, but I have to call a cab becau–"

"No. I'll send Charlie, my driver, to meet you."

Driver?

No use arguing. He wasn't the type of man to lose an argument. I knew that, and didn't even know him.

Instead of insisting, I thanked him and fell back on the bed.

The soft blanket snuggled around my body, and all I wanted to do was relax after my stressful day, but instead, I stood, fixed my hair, and reapplied makeup to cover up the puffiness in my eyes.

My hotel phone rang. The front desk let me know my driver had arrived to escort me. I took one deep breath, and grabbed my resume before leaving.

"Hello, Ms. Downs. My name is Charles Harbrow, but you can call me Charlie." His grayish white hair reflected in the sun, and he had a sincere voice.

"Hi. I'm Jennifer. It's a pleasure."

After a firm handshake, he escorted me outside. A black, glossy limo stretched across the covered driveway. Charlie opened the door, and I smiled at him before sliding across the slick comfortable leather. I could get used to this kind of treatment.

Within minutes, it seemed, I made my way up the sidewalk to a huge building, one larger than Simon & Fitch.

Is it possible that I landed an interview at another successful corporation?

"Ms. Downs, I'll escort you inside."

I allowed him to walk with me to the clear elevator. I had never ridden in one that was totally glass.

"Once on the fifteenth floor, ask for Mr. Felton. Good luck." And the glass doors closed.

I could see everything: the atrium below, the small waterfall in the center, and windows to the offices that lined the walls. I didn't know what kind of business Mr. Felton ran, but it seemed legit, and corporate, and stable. Everything I wanted.

When I arrived at the top floor, a secretary, petite and pretty, escorted me to Mr. Felton's office. In the center of the door hung an engraved golden plaque with Finnley Felton in an elegant cursive script. Big curly Fs… Fancy.

Mr. Felton stood facing the windows in a neatly pressed suit. The black tie complemented the black suit, designer from head to toe. His green eyes met my brown gaze, and I smiled, but only received the ghost of one in return.

Once the secretary left us, I searched the room, trying to take in every little detail: abstract art on the wall, a conference table in the back, and a lounge area in the middle. The afternoon light cast a yellow glow in the room. A large oak desk, which screamed business executive, had two chairs tucked in front. The room looked comfortable, welcoming, but also professional.

The red velvet curtains that overlooked the atrium were jerked closed.

"Hi, Finnley. Thank y—"

"It's Mr. Felton."

My face flushed. How could I be so inconsiderate and unprofessional?

I immediately felt stupid.

"Mr. Felton. Thank you for allowing me to interview. I've brought my resume and a list of recommendations. I'd love to join your accounting team if you'd allow me."

I outstretched my hand and he left me standing there, awkwardly. The smile faded from my face as he leaned against the wooden desk with his arms crossed.

"Take off your clothes." His voice was low and silky.

"Excuse me?" The words hit me like cool water.

I don't think so, asshole.

"The interview has begun, Ms. Downs. If you'd like to join my team, you will do what I say and if you'd prefer not, you are more than welcome to turn around and walk that tight ass through the door, and we can pretend as if this never happened."

The fierce tone behind his English accent made me cower. I froze as I calculated my next move.

What the fuck?

The way he looked at me, exploring my body as if he were undressing me, made my stomach flip. No one had ever observed me that way. With a sprinkle of courage, I searched the blank matter-of-fact expression that covered his face. This man was all business.

As his long eyelashes hit the tops of his slightly sun-kissed cheeks, I closed my eyes to regroup my thoughts, then opened them quickly. I couldn't let my nerves get the best of me. He moved his messy hair behind his ears, and then sat on the desk, waiting, wanting, daring me to make my move.

"Have you decided? Or are we going to waste the good portion of my time daydreaming?"

I swallowed.

All I ever wanted to do was live in Vegas among the lights and fast-paced city. How did I get myself into this? Take off my clothes? I wasn't some cheap whore to be bossed around. The thought of undressing in front of him disgusted me… or did it?

My heart sped as he watched with a lust and want so fierce I shivered. It was now or never, you only live once, right?

I peered behind him and stared at the Vegas strip in the distance. With perfect plump lips, and straight white teeth, Mr. Felton smiled at me. In that very moment, I decided to gamble. I didn't know why because I wasn't much for risks. If anyone was a play-it-safe type of girl, it was me. But in that moment, I wanted to be someone different. I wanted to know the outcome of what waited on the other side. I played with lady luck to see what hand she dealt. Maybe I would get lucky.

He saw me naked already, right? Right?

I slowly unbuttoned the white silk shirt from top to bottom. My breathing increased with each button. The shirt slid from my shoulders and dropped to the floor in a little, crumpled pile. Self-consciousness danced with crazy as my breasts bulged from the top of my black lacy bra.

With steady hands, I unclasped and unzipped the gray skirt from my waist. It fell to the ground and I stepped from it, keeping my gaze to the floor. I paused and raised my eyes to meet his. They gleamed with delight and lust as he searched my body.

"Continue," he said in a gravelly whisper.

I had never taken my clothes off for anyone before. The being-sheltered-thing really made me feel more aware of my naked body. More than anything, I felt embarrassed.

I slowly released a breath with hopes to calm my nerves as I unclasped the bra. On the count of three, I told myself.

One.

I reached behind my back and fidgeted with the clasp.

Two.

Only one more to go.

Three.

I slowly removed the straps. That was it; the girls were free.

Completely exposed, I stood with my head held high and tried to tell myself I didn't strip down to bare nothingness in front of a stranger. But that's just what I did.

I inched the thigh-highs from the top of my legs.

"No. Leave those. But remove the rest."

"The rest?" But that left only my panties.

The black lace felt cold in my fingers. I took my time inching them down my legs and dropped them on my clothes.

"Shaven, completely. Not what I expected from you. Not. At. All."

"Why? Do I not look like I take care of myself or something?"

I stood, vulnerable in thigh-highs and red heels, in front of a beautiful monster. But in reality, I chose it, so monster was a bit harsh.

My breasts and sex were exposed to all of Vegas, or at least that's what it felt like.

Have I lost my fucking mind? Am I this desperate for a job?

A nagging voice inside answered back... Apparently, and yes.

Mr. Felton stalked toward me like a tiger with smooth and fluid movements.

Behind me, he slowly pulled my hair from its business professional bun until dark locks fell around my shoulders and above my breasts. Inspecting every part of me, he slowly circled around my body and let out a moan to let me know that he approved of what he saw. All I could do was peer out the window at the Vegas strip. What the fuck was I doing? I needed to know.

I no longer wanted to look at him. Instead, I focused on the little rays of sun that sprouted through the cotton-clouded sky, so blue that I practically got lost in it.

"Did you hear me?" He was speaking to me, but I had traveled a million miles away.

"Sorry, Mr. Felton, what did you say?"

"It's amazing.  Do you know how many women try to accomplish what you pull off so naturally?" The word naturally left his plump lips. Silence lingered.

The blood rushed to my face, and I could feel my cheeks turn pink.

"You're joking, right?" I tried to pull the edge from my voice, act like I didn't care, but I couldn't. I expected him to say something else. Something different like, "fuck me now or get on your knees" by the way he looked at me.

"You don't even know what you've got, do you? You're fucking amazing, Ms. Downs. You don't try to be beautiful... You just are. I have a handful of ladies that would die for these legs, waist, and for"—he cupped my breasts in his hands—"these."

I tensed, and he squeezed, but immediately let go. He continued to stand inches from my body, and I could smell him. Clean like soap and summer rain, and I almost soaked up his scent. The edge of his suit brushed across my nipples, and they were rock hard. My hormones, not whore moans, went haywire.

"My business is built upon confidence, Ms. Downs, confidence in whom you are, and with what you have. You've got the body, the perfect ass and tits, pretty face, the fierce attitude, but you seem embarrassed about your body, and I can't understand why."

I didn't speak.

"No. It's not…" He paused, chuckled, and then fell silent. I was confused.

"I can't believe I didn't recognize a virgin when I saw one. Usually I'm very good at spotting them, but you, you were a little hard to crack. I'm not fooled often."

"Is it written across my forehead or something?"

"I could tell when I touched you. Your reaction—you actually flinched. But the fact that you are standing here proves that you've got an inkling of a wild side. Beyond the self-doubt, another person waits to be unlocked and set free. Most women, a majority of them, actually, leave at the beginning… but you're not like them. You're different. You are the virgin who stayed."

He placed his hand under my chin and forced me to look into his emerald-green eyes.

"If you'll trust me, and agree to be one of my girls, I can make your wildest dreams come true."

"So let me get this straight." I put my hands on my hips. "I guess I'm not applying for an accounting position?"

"I've got the perfect position for you, but I don't think you can handle it."

With his face close, his warm breath tingled across my skin. He left me utterly speechless.

"Would you like a drink, Ms. Downs?"

"Yes, actually I would."

"Rocks or straight up?"

"Um. Rocks."

Mr. Felton sat my drink on the edge of the desk and stood on the other side. He watched me move across the room, naked and in red heels. As I approached my drink, he grinned. I reached over the desk and chugged it fast. My throat burned.

"Thirsty, are we? Refill?"

I slid the glass toward him. He poured Maker's Mark midway on the rocks glass, and I slammed it down.

"Another?"

"Bring it."

My face burned along with my body. I could feel the alcohol running through my veins, calming the tense muscles and washing my jittery nerves away with each drink. He poured another, filled the glass to the rim, and as I tried to swallow down the next round of liquid gold, he stopped me.

"When's the last time you've had hard liquor?"

"Never. I'm barely twenty-two."

"That doesn't matter. I know seventeen-year-olds that can drink me under the table."

I didn't answer. I didn't want to be seen as a prude twenty-two-year-old virgin who never drank a drop and cursed like a sailor.

Instead, I lifted the glass and tipped it up, making sure to get each drop.

"Why are you here, Ms. Downs?"

"I have no fucking clue."

He puckered his lips a bit and then raised an eyebrow.

"Then you should ask your body to tell you because you keep looking at me, and undressing and fucking me with your eyes. I'm making you an offer. Join my team. Or like I said at the beginning, you can walk that tight ass right back through the door it entered."

My mouth dropped open.

"My business is successful because I have the ability to make all of my clients fantasies come true, and profit from it."

"I don't think I fully understand what I would be committing to."

"Have you ever heard the saying sex sells?"

I nodded.

"Well, I'm the supplier."

With those words, my mind took a moment to catch up with my body that seemed so willing to do whatever Felton said.

Vulnerability coated me.

I crossed my legs and placed my arms over the girls as the reality of the situation revealed its self. The room began to spin.

Why the hell was I naked in his office?

Living. I almost forgot.

Five

"I sell sex. We are human. We have sexual, animalistic needs, and there is a market. It's nothing more than a physical act with a literal happy ending, but not for the faint of heart or frail."

"You sell women?"

"If you are implying I rent out whores, you are incorrect. I offer a high-end call service. There is a difference. We are class, not trash, and have clients that pay close to 20k for one night. My girls are at the top of the sexual pyramid. Rigorous interviews and compatibility tests are involved as well. I'm not running a meat service, Ms. Downs. It's offensive for one to imply so."

I opened my mouth and closed it immediately.

"My girls have rights and protection, legally and physically. The rules are strict, and everyone must abide by them, including the clients. Women beg to be a part of The Elite, and I deny thousands, yes, thousands per year."

"I… I…"

"I'm offering you something that not many are given, an opportunity to join my team, to become one of my girls."

"I… I don't know what to say."

"Say yes."

"But…"

"I can offer you thirty a month, tax free. There is something about you, Ms. Downs, something that I want. Plus, I can get a very pretty penny for your virginity. Probably over a million, and you would earn eighty percent of that."

"Thirty? And wait, you want to… to sell my virginity?"

"Thirty thousand and yes. You'd be prime real estate, Ms. Downs. Of course, you don't have to make a decision now. Give me a call when you're ready to give yourself to me."

He handed me a black business card, different than the first, with white lettering and a red shiny imprint of a kiss on the back. Then he poured himself another round of Maker's Mark.

"Get dressed, Ms. Downs. It's time for you to leave. Call my extension when you've made your decision."

"I…"

"Get. Out. Now."

Instead of saying something immature–like fuck you, or you're an asshole–I walked to the pile of clothes on the floor, and quickly dressed. I grabbed the bobby pins from the floor, put my hair back into a loose bun, and glanced at him as I slipped out the door. Mr. Felton never turned around or spoke another word as he stared out the windows that overlooked the city.

The secretary at the front desk smiled at me as I walked by. Two women waited in chairs, both blonde and beautiful. Would they strip down to nothingness as soon as they walked in, just as I had? Would they walk in blind and walk out enlightened by the fact that someone capitalized on selling sex?

If I decided to do this, I would make over a quarter of a million dollars in the first year. That kind of money for a recent college graduate was unheard of.

As the elevator floated downward, I could only think about the offer. How valuable was my pride? When I came to Vegas, I wanted change, but a complete 360?

The limousine, slick and smooth with windows so dark I couldn't see inside, waited as Mr. Felton promised.

A bottle of iced champagne sat next to a crystal flute. Tied around the top was a note with perfect handwriting that read:

I'll be expecting your acceptance call.

-F

"Fucker," I whispered to the piece of paper and I ripped it into a million pieces.

But could I really do it? Could I really be one of "his girls," as he put it?

The limo stopped moving forward and seconds later the door swung open. Light flooded in, filling the dark car with rusted rays of sunshine. Charlie tipped his hat at me as I stepped out, and as I turned to say thank you, he returned to the driver's seat. The long car sped into the distance before it turned right.

Had everything really happened, or was it all a product of my imagination? Did I have a wild side hidden somewhere deep inside? I didn't think so; I'm too modest, too shy, too nice, I thought.

But if I were being honest, I wanted to find out. I wanted to be someone else, if only for a while.

I strolled to the hotel entrance and realized I had left my clutch with the hotel key back at Mr. Felton's office. Idiot. I didn't want to call until I made my decision.

The chipper woman at the front desk made a new key as if it were nothing. I thanked her and went upstairs to my room. I walked in, plopped down on the bed, and thought about my options.

To be one of Mr. Felton's girls, or not to be—that was the million-dollar question.

* * *

I lay on the hotel bed fully clothed as my phone buzzed next to my head.

Stupid text tone.

I picked up my cell phone, and opened my text messages from an unknown number.

You left your purse at my office, and I got your information from your brilliantly crafted resume.

I typed thanks and programmed Felton into my phone.

Boiiiiiing. Boiiiiiing. Another text.

Have you decided?

I threw the phone across the bed and ignored the rest of the texts. Maybe the silence would give him a hint?

I needed to leave the room and experience some part of Vegas. I ran to the bathroom and stripped off my clothes—for the second time that day—and jumped in the shower. I quickly shaved my legs and armpits, washed my hair, and even brushed my teeth in the shower. After drying my hair, I put on heavy eyeliner and mascara, and slipped on several sets of clothes before choosing a pair of dress pants, a sleeveless top, and a little suit jacket with sparkly buttons.

The hotel bar was boring as hell. Old people sat around eating fancy pretzels while watching a baseball game. I sipped more of the delicious cranberry wine and then the events of the day filled my mind, making my thoughts cloudy.

Straight ahead, several sized bottles lined the long wall. I wanted to talk to someone, anyone. I needed to tell somebody what I had done today, have him or her console me, and tell me it would be okay. Times like this, I wished my mother were here. I wished I could hear her voice again, her laugh, and the way she could make anything dark become light. Too fucking bad, so sad, a voice said in my head.

Fucking asshole logic won't quit talking.

I called my best friend Abbie.

"Hey, Ab."

"Oh my god. I've been worried about you. The next time I see you, I am beating your ass for not calling me when you got to the hotel. What the hell, Jen? No excuses."

"I know. God, I know."

"What's wrong? I can hear something is wrong in your tone."

She knew me.

She knew me better than I sometimes knew myself.

Although my parents weren't here and I didn't have any siblings, Abigail Green knew me like family.

"I've had a weird fucking day. I didn't get the interview with Simon & Fitch. I was late because of a flat."

She knew how much the interview meant to me. How much I had banked on landing that job. It was my only plan.

"Oh. So what will you do? Come back home?" Her voice brightened at the thought. She wanted me back home.

"No. I had another interview, actually."

"Really? I didn't know you had any more lined up."

"It was an accident, and a huge mistake. This guy walked in on me while I was bathing and offered me a job."

"Uh, yeah. That is weird."

"Well, it didn't happen like that completely, but it did. It sounds weird saying it out loud. And. I got naked in his office."

The men at the bar turned their heads and looked at me when the word "naked" left my lips.

"What are you fucking looking at?" I asked them.

They averted their eyes back to the game. I made sure to lower my voice and slightly turn my back toward them. Bastards.

"Sometimes you can be such a bitch," Abbie said.

"What do you expect? They were being nosey old perverts. Anyway."

I whispered in the phone. "He wants to sell my virginity."

"What?"

"He wants to se—"

"I heard you."

"Who the hell does he think he is? It pisses me off that I put myself in a vulnerable situation. I am Jennifer Downs. Most likely to succeed. Career-driven. Prudish. Pretty. Not some bimbo who undresses at the drop of a hat."

"But you did."

It sounded way worst when I told her about it. Every detail down to him telling me to take off my panties, but I refused to tell her how I felt. I've never been the type to say no to a challenge, so I had to. Especially those that come from some young prick CEO of a sex corporation.

Abbie and I said our goodbyes, she promised to come visit around Christmas, and told me to keep my options open, but not to do anything stupid. Always the scandalous girl, that one.

I couldn't keep my mind from Mr. Felton. The way the Gucci suit hugged his body in all the right places and how his velvety voice dropped low, but seemed to ring in my ears. The man was fucking intoxicating to the bone and I hated him for putting a spell on me. I didn't believe in love at first sight, but lust, yes, I was a firm believer of lust at first sight. That asshole.

But as I rode up the golden elevator, I could feel the ache between my legs.

What. The. Living. Fuck?

How could someone so rude, condescending, and assholish have this effect on me? Was assholish even a word? He even clouded my mind to the point of making up stupid words.

I sat on the edge of the bed and thought it over for an hour. Then I undressed down to nakedness and studied myself in the mirror. I could admit that I was a sweet lay, but really? Could I sell my virginity?

Before I turned out the light, I texted Mr. Finnley Felton one word.

Yes.

There was no response.