Page 5 of Nine

I sigh. “I don’t get you. When did you start acting all parental?”

“Um. The moment you forgot to turn the stove off one day and burnt the hell out of the pan, and then you left the bath water running the next day, flooding the floor, and then you locked the keys in the car the day after. Your head’s been somewhere else. Something is up. What is it?”

I shrug. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. Now just get back to what I pay you to do, please.”

Her eyes widen. “You know what I mean.” I tilt my head to the side. She puckers up her lips and shakes her head.

“I need you, Jenny. Let’s not fuck up everything now. Okay? Please?”

She grits her teeth and nods with hesitation in her eyes. Jenny looks down for a second and then turns off on one heel, walking away from me. I follow her out and slip into my black high heels. I smooth out my little black dress and watch as Jenny sits down at the computer and starts punching in information harder than she needs to. I grab my purse and yell over my shoulder as I walk toward the front door.

“Later, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond. I know she’s irritated with me. I stop and spin around. Jenny looks up.

“Do you know why I keep doing this? Why I won’t stop?”

She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me.

“Because it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

Her face drops and so does my stomach. The room is quiet, and I feel exposed. This is the first time I’ve said that in all of these years, but it’s the truth. I quickly turn to leave. I need air, and I need it now. I open the door and hurry outside.

“Bye, bitch,” I hear her respond before the door closes. That’s her way of letting me know she understands. I let my shoulders fall forward as I take a deep breath in. I shake off the feels and walk to the black Mercedes Benz with the tinted windows that’s parked out front. I climb inside and fidget with the radio. I need to get back into work mode. I select the playlist by The Weeknd. It’s my warm up music. It gets the blood pumping in my lower regions. I don’t know how he manages to keep coming out with songs that make me and half the women around the world want to get naked at just the sound of his voice, but kudos to him for doing it. Men should be sending the singer thank-you cards for all the ass they get.

I slide on my sunglasses, start up the engine, and crank up the tunes. I have one appointment to get to before I see my new client later. This guy, Kirk, I’m headed over to see now, is a very loyal regular. I visit him every week, same day, and same time. It’s always at his house. He’s into that real kinky shit. He loves being dominated and he really, really loves toys. He’s a professional tennis player who could probably have any chick he wants, but I think his sexual appetite probably scares away most of the women he meets. I just tell him to keep paying me the way he does and I don’t mind what he’s in to.

I arrive at his house and knock on the door. He opens it and gives me his pearly white smile. He’s tall and sexy, like most of my clients, but to me he just looks like an ATM. I don’t see anything else. That’s how my brain works. Man. Job. Money. Repeat. I smile back.

“Nine, it’s good to see you, sweetheart.” He eyes me head to toe. “Come in.”

I bat my eyelashes and force Nine to come out and play, as he hands me money.

“You look fuck-able tonight,” I say, stepping forward and grabbing his tie. I tug on it just once to get his attention. I watch him lick his lips as he closes the door.

“You know, I mark down the days until I get to see you each week.”

“I bet you do,” I tease.

He looks at me with devious eyes. He’s not one to waste precious time. He’s ready.

“I’ve been a very bad boy today,” he says in a deep throaty voice.

“Have you broken the rules?” I ask. Seduction is dripping off my tongue.

He looks down. I walk closer, pushing against his chest, backing him up against the door.

“I said, did you break the rules? Answer me when I talk to you,” I demand. I slide my hand down low and give his cock a good squeeze.

“Yes, mistress.” He falls into character. He looks down in shame.

“What did I say about masturbating between sessions?”

“Not to do it,” he answers.

“And why have I given you this order?” I ask.

“Because this cock is yours,” he replies.

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