Page 2 of Trick Me, Treat Me
By the time the sun slid behind the buildings, my loft was nothing but city glow and candlelight. I moved through the space with music low in the background, SZA crooning through the speakers while I lit another vanilla candle and set it by the tub. Nights like this, when I didn’t have a client lined up, belonged to me.
I ran the water hot, dropped a bath bomb, and tied my silk hair wrap tighter before sliding in. The heat melted the day off me, and I leaned back, watching the bubbles climb up my thighs.
My phone rested on the counter within reach, lighting up with notifications every few minutes. I ignored them. If it wasn’tSidra, it could wait. I didn't really have friends or family. I had money and I was good with that. I scrolled through social media for a while, and laughed at a couple of videos. Then, I posted a story for my private subscribers.
Within seconds, the tips rolled in.
I stayed in the tub until the water cooled, then rinsed, oiled down with cocoa butter and shimmer lotion, and slid into my silk robe. The fabric clung to my skin in that way that made me feel expensive even when I was alone.
My vanity sat against the wall, mirror outlined with bulbs. I sat there with my glass of champagne and started my routine. Slicked edges, a little mascara, a nude gloss. Not because I needed it, but because I liked looking at myself put together. The robe slid open just enough to remind me what men paid thousands to see.
I pulled out my drawer of toys, which consisted of a vibrating tongue, a rose, a wand, and a bullet. I smirked to myself, fingers grazing over each one before grabbing what never let me down. The wand.
It was heavy, reliable, and ruthless in the best way. Nights without company didn’t mean nights without pleasure. I carried it back to the bed, unbothered, unashamed, robe falling off one shoulder as I stretched out across the sheets. Skin warm, thighs already sticky from thoughts I should’ve ignored but didn’t. I angled the wand just right and let the low buzz fill the room, vibrating against my palm like it already knew the assignment.
The first contact made my hips twitch. “Mmm… fuck,” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut.
My free hand caressed my titties, fingertips grazing over hardened nipples as the wand zeroed in on that perfect spot between my legs. I parted them wider, grinding into the pressure, breath catching as the speed picked up.
Soft moans spilled from my lips before they got louder. My toes curled, the pulsing growing sharp, intense. My thighs clenched, hips rising to meet the vibration like I needed more, all of it. I let the robe slip down completely, bare now, arching against the sheets like I had something or someone watching.
My mouth fell open. “Oh my God…” I bit my lip, back tightening as the wave built, hot and unrelenting.
The wand didn’t play fair. It never did. Within seconds, I was squirming, moaning low and dirty, heels digging into the mattress, my body trembling as that orgasm ripped through me fast and hard. Pleasure painted every nerve, and still, I kept the wand pressed in place, chasing it again and again before curling up. Sleep always came easily when I was satisfied.
Spirit
H a l l o w e e nn i g h talways carried its own kind of energy. Grimwood felt thicker, like the air itself had secrets in it. Fog curled low along the streets, and every block smelled like pumpkin spice, weed, and fried chicken, depending on which way the wind blew.
Inside my loft, Muni Long crooned as a glass of red wine was sweating before me. Candles flickered in every corner. My silk robe slid off my shoulders as I sat in front of the vanity, beat almost finished.
“Alright, bitch,” I whispered to my reflection. “Time to kill.”
I pulled my liner sharp, lashes curled, gloss slick and brown-nude with a shine that would catch any man’s eye. Myhair swung bone straight, middle part so clean it could split a man’s soul. When I stood, the black dress lace hugged every curve, lace framing my hips, cleavage full and unbothered. Jewels gleaming. The stilettos gave me height I didn’t need more of, but always loved.
I sipped my wine, let the bass of the music roll through my chest, and walked back to the mirror. That’s when my phone buzzed.
I frowned.Car?I hadn’t given anybody my address. That wasn’t how this worked.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Sidra. It rang. No answer. I tried again, and my call went straight to voicemail this time. “Girl, don’t play with me,” I muttered, pacing across the loft.
I looked down at the message again. For a split second, I thought about canceling. But the deposit already hit, the rate was double, and I wasn’t in the business of walking away from money. My robe hit the couch, and I grabbed my clutch, checking my reflection one last time before I headed out.
The elevator ride down felt longer than usual, my nails tapping against my phone the whole way. The front door slid open to a sweep of October fog and headlights cutting through the street. Parked at the curb was a long black limo, tinted so dark it looked like a shadow on wheels.
The driver stepped out. Tall, pale skin, face half-hidden under a black cap. His eyes caught me in the streetlight, sharp and glassy, “Spirit?” he asked, voice flat, almost mechanical.
“That’s me,” I said, chin high, though my stomach flipped. He didn’t smile, just opened the door with a stiff nod.Creepy ass, I thought.
Inside, the limo smelled like leather and smoke. The seats stretched wide, a champagne bottle on ice waiting in the middle. I slid in, crossed my legs, and pulled out my phone before the door shut.
“Bitch, where you at?” my neighbor, Tierra, shouted over FaceTime, her screen filled with neon cat ears and glitter makeup. She was already lit.
“In a limo, on my way to this Halloween bag,” I said, showing her a glimpse of the leather seats.
“Okay, big money! You look fine as hell, Spooky.” That was her nickname for me ever since she moved in down the hell last year.
“I know,” I smirked, tilting the camera so she could see the lace, the gloss, the hair laid.
