My first night on the job was the worst. That first sexual encounter will haunt me forever. For-fucking-ever. The night I lost my virginity to a disgusting client. He was a short, stocky, balding, middle-aged, perverted pig of a man. He was the highest bidder for my innocence.
The day before, M had paraded me around in front of all the potential suitors, wearing only skimpy white lace underwear, a garter belt and stockings. It was humiliating, and so degrading. Once they’d had their fill of ogling me, she made me leave the room so the bidding could begin.
Two hundred thousand dollars was the amount he paid to strip me of my virtue, and all my self-worth. I only know that because one hundred thousand dollars was deposited into my bank account the next day. My cut. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t relive that night for all the money in the world. No fucking way.
Over the years though, I’ve learnt to deal with my situation. The life of a high-class escort isn’t all glitz and glamour. There’ve been times when I’ve struggled with what I’m expected to do, with the person I’ve become. Like, really struggled. I remember thinking to myself I’d rather die than do it again. What little respect I’d still had for M was gone. It was replaced with hate. With contempt. How could she do this to me?
As much as I hated it, however, in the grand scheme of things, it was a walk in the park compared to most of my childhood.
I only had two more years of my sentence to serve, and then I’d be free. I’d finally accepted this was my destiny, my fate. This is who I was meant to be. For the interim anyway. Or so I thought.
I had no idea that I’d soon be faced with a situation where I’d break all the rules. M would’ve spit kittens if she ever found out I’d betrayed her trust. Yet she betrayed me in the worst possible way. She should’ve been the one person who looked out for my welfare, not the one to throw me to the lions.
It clearly states in my contract that I’m not allowed to have any contact with a man outside of my work. That meant no boyfriends and definitely no casual sex. I had no qualms about that clause—because of what I’ve been forced into doing, I kind of hate men anyway. Well, I had no qualms until I met Brock Weston. After my encounter with Mr Weston, my life would never be the same.
One night of passion with a sinfully hot, charming and charismatic stranger would change everything.
Would change me.
‘How are you feeling tonight, ma’am?’ Rupert asks when he opens the back door of the limousine for me.
‘Fine thanks, Rupert,’ I reply, my eyes meeting his as I smile. It’s what I always tell him, even if I’m not okay. I love how he always asks though. He’s been my saviour since he came to work for M.
I was sixteen when Rupert arrived. At first I was wary of him: some of M’s henchmen are creepy or just plain thugs. Once I got to know Rupert though, I soon realised he was one of the good ones. He’s a lovely man, and sincere.
It took him a few years to work his way up the ranks and gain M’s trust, but once he did, he was assigned to me permanently. Rupert’s been looking after me for five years now. Truthfully, I was over the moon about it. He’s always been kind. In my opinion he’s far too nice to work for someone like her, but I guess she pays well. Of course I didn’t tell M how happy I was—she’s a spiteful bitch. She would’ve used the knowledge against me if she knew I was fond of him. She’s a master manipulator.
Rupert’s controlled by M just as much as I am, but from the very beginning, he’s always looked out for me. I’m not sure if I would’ve survived this long without him. Especially after that awful first night.
Rupert escorts me up to the penthouse suite. It’s the room M reserves for her best clients. I’m on the verge of throwing up when we reach the door. I’d been thrust into the arms of strangers for as long as I can remember, but never in my life have I felt so much despair. So utterly helpless.
Although it’s against the rules for him to stay, Rupert can see my apprehension—my entire body is trembling. The pained look on his handsome, aging face, tells me he is just as troubled by my circumstances as I am. I’m not used to people giving a shit about me, but it’s quite obvious he does. It surprises and soothes me all at once. Reassuringly, he promises me he’ll be waiting right outside the door. It gives me the confidence I need to enter the room. Without Rupert, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to go through with it.
When I see the man who awaits me, bile rises to my throat, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Great, the creepy one. The one who’d been licking his lips the whole time M had me on display the day before. Just having his eyes on me makes me feel dirty. Out of the twenty or so men M had invited to bid on me, he was the one I’d prayed I wouldn’t get. Of course, fate being the bitch it is, it was him. I knew I was fucking cursed.