Three Hard Lessons (Blindfold Club 2)

He paused. “Milwaukee.”

“Oh, no.” Her voice was heavy with fake dread. “Don’t tell me you’re a Packers fan.”

Shit. We had code speak, and talking about sports meant my potential client was attractive. Attractive men shelled out less money on average. Football also meant he was late twenties or early thirties. Wealthy, young, and attractive men didn’t need to come to the club. Not unless what they wanted was exceptionally taboo.

“I don’t get a chance to watch American football.”

His deep voice had a delicious roughness I liked, and for a moment I didn’t catch the implication. American football. Why would someone who grew up in Milwaukee refer to it that way? He sounded like a foreigner.

“That’s too bad. The Bears might make the playoffs this year.” The room fell quiet, and tension sprang up, winding tighter in the silence. I knew what she was going to say next. “Would you like a taste?” Nina purred.

“How much?” I couldn’t tell for certain, but he sounded nervous. Like someone who wasn’t willing to part with his hard-earned money easily.

“The taste is complimentary, sir.”

“No, I mean, how much for all of it? For her?”

He was going to skip over the sample and get right to it? I struggled to keep myself indifferent while I silently pleaded with Nina not to start too high. He’d freak and bolt. She hesitated. I’m sure she was trying to find the right balance.

It came out shaky and unsure. “Thirty thousand.”

Holy mother of god, Nina! Way too high.

I wasn’t supposed to speak, but she was going to blow this sale, so I ignored the house rule. “Wait, sir, she meant–”

“All right,” he said in his rough but calm voice. “Thirty grand it is.”

chapter

TWO

Stumbled footsteps in heels rang out, like his words had literally knocked Nina back.

I was grateful to be on the table, but I jolted against the straps in shock. He didn’t negotiate. Was he not aware this was like buying a car or jewelry? You don’t ever go with sticker price. Well, there was feeling in me now, all right. Terror. What the fuck was this guy going to do to me that he was comfortable dropping that kind of money?

“Thirty grand,” Nina’s voice rasped as she repeated it, stunned. “Uh, excellent. Great.”

I could practically hear the gears in her head churning. Was she trying to find a way to get him to negotiate higher? This unprecedented event had us both scrambling.

“Thirty thousand dollars,” she echoed again, and it sounded like she’s barely left off the phrase, “You’re sure?” I had to get her out of here before her babbling brought him to his senses.

“Thank you, Nina,” I said. Hopefully my dismissive tone wasn’t lost on her. Brisk and sharp footfalls away from me announced it wasn’t. I let out a breath when the door shut, leaving me alone with the rough edged voice I liked and the worry I did not.

In the quiet, my trepidation built to a level I couldn’t control.

“Are you still there?” I couldn’t hear him breathing anymore.

“Yes, sorry. I was looking at this, um . . . menu.”

The willing list. The menu was set up on an easel in the back of the room. It was everything I would allow my client to either do to me, or was willing to do to him.

“There’s a lot on here.” It didn’t sound judgmental, which was good. He was the one who just agreed to pay for pussy—or whatever else he wanted—so he had no room to be judging anyone.

I controlled my voice. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

There wasn’t anything on the list I was opposed to, obviously, but there were a few things I hadn’t tried before. Some were the silly ones like diapering, but some were the scarier ones like autoerotic asphyxiation.

“Kissing?”