The Virgin Duet

Both guards halt in their tracks. For once, I’m actually thankful for Bray’s presence. I don’t want two giant men manhandling me.

“Yeah, Hulk One and Hulk Two. Touch me and you won’t be able to piss for a fucking week,” I taunt.

“Cindy, I don’t recall asking you to call security.” Bray says in his usual controlled voice. He slips off his suit jacket and vest, and lays them over the back of one of the chairs. Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt. What the fuck?

“Sir, she barged in here and destroyed your office,” she trills.

“God, how do you listen to that voice every day? Are you a masochist or something? She must give grade-A head,” I wonder, while looking down to make sure my boobs haven’t popped out of my bra. Thank God I wore my nice one today.

“You, shut your mouth,” he barks at me. He flings his shirt in my direction and I catch it. Then he turns around. “And you,” he says pointing at Cindy. “Call the cleaning service, and then you can go home for the day.”

“But, sir, we still—”

“Enough! I gave you your instructions, Cindy. You’re dismissed.” Cindy shoots me a death glare but I just smirk. Dropping Bray’s shirt on the floor, I make my way over to his desk and flop down in his chair. I put my feet up on the glass, but not before I knock his computer mouse to the floor with my foot.

Cindy huffs and stomps out of the room. Both security men just stare at my tits.

“Like what you see, boys? It just so happens I’m looking—”

“Out!” Bray yells, making us all jump a little. I can see the veins in his neck strain. Bray isn’t a giant like Hulk One and Hulk Two—he’s leaner with broad shoulders and a narrow waist—but those guys seem to be intimidated by him. It’s hard to see all of his body as he’s still wearing his tight white undershirt, but I can just about make out his shape. The shirt clings to his trim body like a second skin and I feel a little drool on my lip.

“Jesus, don’t you have any manners at all, Mr. Vanilla? You could ask nicely and I would leave— maybe,” I say breezily, but make no move to get up. I’m not leaving. I’m not done with him yet. He still owes me a job and I’m starting to really think he’s jealous. Why not just let security take me? This is something I can use.

“Not you. You keep your little ass in that chair.” Well, shit. It’s not as fun sitting in his chair if he wants me here. I sat here to further piss him off.

“You two, I want you out. Don’t ever touch her. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, we apologize,” they say in unison before turning and leaving the room. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Mr. Spencer barks an order and everyone follows. Probably how I lost my job. He went down there told them he wanted me gone and, bam, I’m gone.

“Well, now look what you did. You just ran off two more potential customers. You’re just costing me all kinds of money today, and it’s starting to really chap my ass.”

“Are you saying you’re a hooker, Rebecca?”

The use of my name throws me off. No one has called me Rebecca in forever. I hate that name.

“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, not that you’d know anything about that, but I sure as hell don’t want to go back to the shelter. My brother and I have to make rent and he’s out of work right now.” I inwardly groan. Why did I tell him that? And why am I embarrassed about it? I don’t do embarrassed.

I see sympathy flash across his eyes.

“Don’t,” I put my hand up before he can turn this into a pity party. Of course, I wasn’t going to sleep with those men, but when I saw the emotion he showed when I first joked about it, I couldn’t help myself. I had to poke the bear a little. “I don’t need your pity. I know how to get by on my own, and I’ve been doing it for years. What I really didn’t need though, is you getting me fired. I liked that job.” Okay, that’s a lie. I hated that job, but it’s the nicest job I’ve ever had.

“I didn’t get you fired.”

“Bullshit,” I retort. He had something to do with it. “But what you’re going to do is get me another job, or I’ll keep making your life difficult. As you can see, I’ve got the time to invest in doing it.” He has to have something for me to do around here. He owns a freaking building, for God’s sake. Who knows what else he owns.

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Twenty-three.”

He shoots me a look that tells me he knows I’m full of shit. “Old enough,” I finally say.

“Do you really whore yourself out?” he asks, making his way over to me. I’m shocked when he easily lifts me from his chair, sitting me on his desk and sliding himself between my legs.

“Why? You looking?” I ask. Why would he need a hooker? A couple of the girls from the shelter make easy money selling themselves. I’ve never been that desperate, but I understand why they do it. I don’t judge them for it. My life hasn’t been as rough as some of the other girls’. I lucked out. Might be shitty luck but it’s still luck. I bet women fall all over him, so I don’t understand why he would need to pay to get laid. Whoever this Chelsea is, I’m sure she’d give him some. “No. Honestly, I’ve never whored myself out, but maybe if the price was right. Maybe if I was desperate enough.” Pausing, I look up into his eyes. He presses against me, and I can feel his cock is hard. “Does it make you hard thinking you could buy me? What do you think virginity goes for these days? Maybe I’m in the market to sell after all.”