Escorting The Billionaire #2(5)

 

“Whatever you’d like, James,” I said, hoping I sounded obedient.

 

“I’ll see you in my bedroom in fifteen minutes, then,” he said. His face was impassive, and his voice gave nothing away.

 

I wanted to run from the apartment, screaming. I didn’t want this. “Of course,” I said, squashing my feelings. I didn’t want this, but I needed it. Knowing the difference was what being an adult was all about.

 

That’s why being an adult sucked so hard.

 

I left and went to my room so that I could change. I chose some expensive lingerie that Elena had packed for me. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. If a whore was what he wanted, a whore was what he was going to get.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The one trick that Jenny had taught me was to think of it like a movie. If it was bad, she’d said, pretend you were watching it and that it was happening to someone else. If the movie took a turn for the worst and got really scary, just close your eyes, she said. Then it would be as if it never happened.

 

I started pretending this was a movie right now. I needed this to be an out-of-body experience in the most desperate way. I put on a black lace thong, a garter, sheer black stockings, and a very sexy push-up bra. The outfit was over-the-top escort. I shook my hair out in loose waves around my shoulders. I picked out black spiked heels, and then I sprayed my mouth with breath spray about a thousand times. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, but I ignored it, trying to get myself under control. I even tried yoga breathing, taking a breath in through one nostril and breathing it out through the other.

 

It just made me have a coughing fit.

 

Finally, I calmed down. James was not my first John, nor was he my first disappointment. I went down the hall to his bedroom, my heels clicking loudly. This is the part where the heroine shows the hero what she’s made of, I thought. But that was only in a regular movie. In a porno, this was where the heroine was about to get fucked six ways from Sunday.

 

I hated myself for it, but I got a little wet at the thought.

 

James was waiting for me in his room. He was sitting on the bed, still tapping things into his damn phone. He didn’t even look at me as I clicked past him to the other side and stood there, trying to feign confidence and indifference.

 

Finally he looked up, and I thought I saw a flicker of surprise cross his face. He quashed it immediately. “Don’t move,” he commanded. “I just want to look at you.” It was a good thing I was twenty-two and had a smoking-hot body, because this was happening in the harsh light of day. I took a deep breath as James came toward me, his eyes drinking me in greedily. I felt so exposed right now, so different from how I’d felt last night.

 

“Well, you look awfully nice for what I have planned,” he said darkly.

 

“Will I do?” I asked, playing his game.

 

“Oh, yeah. You’ll do nicely.”

 

He went back and sat down on the bed. He leaned back against the headboard and put his arms behind his head, just relaxing and enjoying the view while I stood on display. I could see his stupid bulging biceps. I hated myself for it, but the way he was inspecting me, coupled with those stupid bulging biceps, was getting me a little more wet. I didn’t know what he had planned. My heart was beating fast.

 

“Please,” he said. “Sit.” He patted the bed beside him, and I tried to sit seductively. Unfortunately, the thong was giving me a major wedgie.

 

My face betrayed nothing.

 

“Can you pass me that?” James asked.

 

“What?” I started looking around for a tube of lubricant, a whip, or some handcuffs.

 

“The remote,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

I handed it to him. So I guessed we were going to watch some porn.

 

James turned on New England Sports News and sighed happily. “They’re on the road. Tampa Bay. The game’s on in half an hour,” James said.

 

“Huh?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

 

He turned to me with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I said the Red Sox game’s on in half an hour.”

 

“You want to watch the game?”

 

“Don’t you?” He asked innocently.

 

Well, I thought, two can play this game. “Absofuckinglutely,” I said, turning back to the television. I decided to ignore both him and my wedgie.

 

 

 

 

 

James

 

 

 

 

 

The Red Sox weren’t playing well, but for once, I didn’t care. Audrey was back, and she was next to me. She was also wearing some very hot black lingerie, but I wasn’t going to address that. Not yet. There were hours before the photo shoot, hours I had to spend with just her.