Escorting the Billionaire - Part 1

“That guy was a creep, Elena,” I said defensively. “If I hadn’t run, I would probably still be his sex slave, shackled up in his scary basement.”

“We’re lucky he didn’t press charges against us,” Elena said. “And I don’t blame you for wanting to get out of there. But if there’s ever a problem, you call me. You don’t pepper-spray a client, handcuff him to a wall in his underwear, and then run away.”

“What if he was going to kill me, huh?” I asked.

“He wasn’t going to kill you,” she responded, rolling her eyes at me as if I were being dramatic.

“Elena, he told me I was going to be his lifelong prisoner. And he’d already done some scary stuff to me at that point,” I said. “All I kept thinking was, who was gonna help my brother? Who was going to take care of him if I never came back?” I was traumatized more by the memory of that worry than by the creepy John himself. I could handle him. But Tommy being left all alone?

That I could never handle.

“There, there,” she said, coming over and rubbing my shoulders. “Don’t get all blotchy.”

I knew she was being nice and cooing over me because I was her prized show pony of the moment. But I smiled at her anyway. She’d given me this as**signment, and I was going to be able to set things up for Tommy now. So that if a John ever did decide to keep me as a permanent-resident sex slave, my poor brother would at least have a roof over his head.

She cupped my face in her hands and clucked her tongue in approval. “You’re perfect looking even when you’re upset,” she said. “And all your body parts are real. James Preston is going to love you. And then he’s going to love me, too.”

After staring off into space for a second, probably counting all the money she was going to make, Elena came back to earth. She looked at me. “Back to the pepper-spray incident. I do not want my girls getting hurt. Not ever. You call me if there’s a problem. If it’s bad, I’ll have you call 911 immediately. After I screen the issue. But that guy telling you that he wanted to lock you up and hate-fuck you every day for the rest of your life? Honey, you haven’t been around that long. That’s nothing. Really, that’s not so bad.”

I looked at her, indignant. “He had a basement filled with handcuffs and shackles, permanently affixed to the walls,” I said. “It seemed pretty bad at the time.”

She squeezed my face as if I was an insolent child. “I forgive you for running,” she said, even though I wasn’t asking for her forgiveness. “But I want you to make this James Preston thing your triumph. Your return to good graces. You remember that you owe me for giving you another chance. If you make him happy, I’ll be sure that you only get the best clients from now on. The normal ones, who just want to pretend that you’re the perfect girlfriend. And maybe jerk off in your face.”

“I’d take that over being chained up and hate-fucked by that fat, hairy dude any day,” I mumbled.

“Duh,” said Elena. “Who wouldn’t?”

Elena went back to her office, and I started pacing, intermittently misting my mouth, waiting for Mr. Preston.

“Dre. Dre!” my friend Jenny called. She burst into the room, breathing hard.

“Omigod, Dre. James Preston is out front! And he’s frickin’ gorgeous! Can I switch with you? Please? You can have Fat Vinnie, and Loopsy, and all my other regulars, but I’m not kidding you, you’re gonna die when you see him—”

“Jenny, I’m gonna die if you don’t stop talking so fast.” I said, laughing. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it, trying to calm her down. Even though we were about the same age, Jenny was like my little sister. I was always trying to soothe her and keep her out of trouble.

I smiled at her and shook my head encouragingly. “Okay? You okay?”

She exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. “But I am not kidding you, Dre, you’re gonna frickin’ die. He’s that hot. I cross my heart and swear to God. My underwear are soakin’ wet just from looking at him.”

I laughed and held up my hand to stop her. “Okay, Jenny. I get it. He’s good looking.”

She looked at me expectantly. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked. She sounded disappointed.

I looked at Jenny, her sweet, open face. Jenny was my friend, but she was not the brightest of bulbs. The fact that my new client was frickin’ hot, as she put it, was not enough to get me excited.

“Of course I’m excited,” I lied, and pulled her in for a quick hug. “I’m just nervous.” This, at least, was the truth. “I’m worried about being around his whole family for two weeks, for starters. And going to all those brunches and co**cktail hours. Then a vacation. That’s a lot of family time…and I’m pretending to be someone else. Someone normal. Educated.”