Linc And Raven: Forbidden Part 8

The cabbie pulled up in front of my apartment building, and I handed him a twenty through the slot in the gla.s.s that separated us. After telling him to keep the change, I made my way through the frigid New York air and into my building. The Camarades was a small set of 'for sale' condos housed just minutes from downtown Manhattan. They leaned more towards the luxury side of life and I found solace in knowing that I worked my a.s.s off, literally, for the amenities of them. After a short elevator ride to the top floor, I produced the key from my purse and opened the door to my apartment. Sitting in the corner of the building, my apartment produced a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline. Lights twinkled in through my windows, casting illuminating shadows across the dark, stained wood floors.

Flipping on the light, I sat my purse down on the bar and noticed the blinking red light on my answering machine. I didn't have time to listen to whoever was trying to reach me because I needed to get ready to meet Mr. Mystery Client. Padding into my bathroom, I turned the shower onto a temperature that wasn't quite scalding but would be hot enough for me to stand while I washed the remnants of Mr. Patterson from my body.

I did a double check to make sure my body was smooth everywhere, something that most of my clients preferred, I lathered up my preferred honeysuckle body wash onto a loofah and began scrubbing my skin. Using the same scented shampoo, I paid special attention to the long strands of my pin straight, blonde hair that contained highlights that only the expensive salons in town were able to produce.

I came from a very prestigious family. My father was a New Jersey senator, and my mother ran in the highest of social circles. From memory, they were good parents, but they weren't around much of my childhood, which was spent mostly in dormitories at a boarding school. Little did I know that not only were my parents broke, but they left me with absolutely nothing the day I was told my freshman year that they were both killed in a plane crash. Now, if I experienced emotions like normal people, I would have broken down and cried that day, but instead I felt nothing. My heart didn't ache, nor did I cry a single tear. Not even when they were placed in their coffins and lowered into the ground.

People take me for a hard a.s.s. Someone who has no empathy for the things that would affect others. It isn't that I am doing it on purpose; I just have no control over what I do and don't feel, except when it comes to pleasure. When my parents left me with nothing, I mean they left me with nothing. The house, that I lived in, was foreclosed on. The boarding school that I went to kicked me out because my parents had failed to pay the tuition for several semesters. I was left with only the clothes on my back and the ability to not let my circ.u.mstances affect me.

That is why I became what I was today. I had to find a means of survival-a way to put food in my belly and a roof over my head. I had no family, my grandparents all having died before I was born. I had no siblings, no close relatives. I was completely and utterly alone. When I was approached in a dark alley, in a less than desirable neighborhood of somewhere in New York, by a man willing to give me fifty dollars for a few moments of time in my p.u.s.s.y, I said what the h.e.l.l. When he gave me seventy because I was quote "the best p.u.s.s.y he had ever had", my profession was born. I worked for several years on my own and then I met Alexandra, my agent. She started booking me with clients instead of me finding them on my own. I got paid more money, she got her cut, and we were both happy.

I saved enough money for a down payment on my condo, and everything I have furnished it with since. So to me the little luxuries, like my favorite honeysuckle bath products, weren't taken for granted because they were a reminder of the struggle I went through to get to where I was today.

After rinsing off, I made my way down the hall to my bedroom. A normal person's closet might contain things like dress suits, several pairs of jeans and some cute tops. My closet was full of lingerie, and not just any lingerie, but the high-quality s.h.i.+t that I had to f.u.c.k five men for in order to afford. I picked my favorite red lace bra and garter from the hanger where they hung pristinely in my closet, made my way over to my bed and laid it down before I padded over to my dresser and produced a pair of red silk stockings that matched. Using a towel, I dried my hair and sat on my bed with my honeysuckle lotion and began to smooth the creamy concoction on my tanned skin.

The scent was soothing to me-giving me a s.e.xy feel when I had to perform some not-so-s.e.xy acts with some not-so-s.e.xy clients. When the lotion was absorbed into my skin, I rolled the stockings up my legs to where they came to rest mid-thigh. Reaching over, I grabbed the lingerie and got dressed, adjusting my b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the cup of my bra to where they looked their perkiest. Alexandra said this client was important, and I had never been one to disappoint, but I was also intrigued by the anonymity he required. Was he some dirty rich man who tried to hide his extra-marital activities from his wife? Or was he some lonely old widow looking for a one-night companion?

Who gives a s.h.i.+t? It's four grand.

My phone beeped in my purse, and I retrieved it to find a text from my agent.

Lexie: Car will be there in 15. Don't be late. This client is big on promptness.

I rolled my eyes and threw the phone back into my purse. If this guy wanted an escort so badly, he could wait. I proceeded back down the hall to the bathroom where I blew out my towel-dried hair until it settled softly down to my mid-back. After applying a few finis.h.i.+ng touches with the flat iron, I went to work creating a dark smoky eye and paired it off with a dark red lip that matched the color of my lingerie.

There was a knock on my condo door just as I slipped the black form fitting dress I chose into place and grabbed my purse from the kitchen island. Opening the door as I grabbed my dark trench coat, I was greeted by a gorgeous looking man dressed in a solid black suit with matching solid black tie and chauffeur hat. My eyes raked over the late twenty-something man and knew he couldn't be any older than I was. His broad shoulders and narrow waist made the black suit he wore fit his body perfectly. Dark, soft curls fell just above his brows and matched the small amount of scruff that graced his face. He was tall, possibly well over six feet as he towered over me even in my Louboutin heels. I admired his pert nose and strong jaw and smiled in appreciative delight at the deliciousness of the man that stood in front of me.

"Miss Lane?" He questioned as he bowed slightly in my direction.

"Ah, uh, yes. That's me," I stammered.

What the f.u.c.k? That has never happened before. Of course, it wasn't every day that a s.e.xy as f.u.c.k man showed up at my door to pick me up either.

"I'm here to escort you to your destination," he extended an arm to me and I nodded, looping my arm through his and followed him out of the door. We turned so I could secure the lock with my key and then I proceeded to follow him down the corridor to the elevators. Heat from his body radiated through the suit he wore, causing a rise in my own body temperature. That was what I craved. Feelings. Pleasure being one of the only things that I was able to experience on a normal, everyday basis, quickly became my addiction.

We exited the elevator and made our way outside into the freezing night air. I hugged my coat tighter around my body, and the man led me to the sleek, black car that waited at the curb. Releasing my arm to open the door, he guided me in, making sure I was comfortable before rounding it to get into the driver's seat.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I removed my purse from my shoulder and sat it on the seat next to me. It was then that I noticed the blindfold sitting there. I picked it up, letting the silky material slide across one hand.

"I'm not allowed to tell you, Miss Lane. I'm afraid that is a matter of discretion. Also, if you could place the blindfold over your eyes, I can begin to proceed to your intended destination."

"Of course," I replied, obeying his request as I put the blindfold in place. Securing it with a knot at the back of my head, I informed the driver it was okay to leave.

Someone was going through a lot of trouble to not let anyone know what he was about to do. He must be someone important, someone in the public eye, or someone very, very rich. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't care who the f.u.c.k he was. The only thing I cared about was the four grand I was going to walk away with tonight.

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