Page 11 of Elicit (Decadence After Dark)

“One last thing. I like every girl to educate themselves or have a hobby. Some are working toward their GEDs; most are taking college courses online”—

“I have a college level education.”

The way she speaks and carries herself that doesn’t surprise me.

“Okay. A hobby, then? Maybe something new you’d like to learn?”

London cocks her head contemplatively. It’s as if I’ve asked her the square root of three million and three.

“I’m not sure, to be honest.”

I surmise by her response no one has ever asked her what she likes or what her interests are. Yet she has a college degree? She comes off as a confident woman, but I can see there’s more to this little red robin than meets the eye. Every girl who walks into this house has a story, and London is no different.

“Well, there must be something that interests you? Music? Painting?”

She shakes her head and bites her lip, worry surfacing on her sharp features.

“Learning another language, maybe? French? Spanish?” I toss another idea out there. She glances out the window right before she pauses thoughtfully.

“Pictures. I’ve always wanted to learn how to take pictures.”

“Pictures?” I repeat.

She straightens defensively in her seat, awaiting my what? By her anxious energy, I would guess my criticism. But she won’t get it. Never from me.

I soften my voice. “Pictures. Okay. That’s a new one. But okay.” I make a note.Research cameras and online photography courses.

Her tension eases, a beholden look in her eyes.

“There is one more thing.” I clear my throat and close her file. “I assess each girl.”

“Assess?”

“Yes. I need to know their sexual skill level so I can match them with the right clients. Some girls need training.”

Her stare sharpens. “Okay.” She gives me no objections. “When does that happen?”

I glance at my watch.Right now? Right this fucking second.

“Why don’t we introduce you to the other girls, get you settled, and then do the assessment,” I suggest like the calm and rational man I wish I were at the moment. Maybe on the outside. Inside, I’m balancing on my unsteady control to keep from ripping her clothes off and fucking her like a savage right on my desk.

Her eyebrow arches perceptively. Does she see through my smokescreen? If she does, my poker face needs some extensive work.

“Just tell me where and when.” She has no issue rising to the challenge. Strong, beautiful, confident, feminine, fierce. She’s the perfect sex object in the making.

Your perfect sex object. Your perfect soul mate in the making.

I ignore my meddlesome subconscious. Now is not the time to be staking claims. A romantic distraction is the last thing anyone needs. Not with Kayne in Mexico and Alistair gone. I’m the only one left to keep this household together.

It’s my job. It’s my commitment. To myself, my organization, and these girls.

I show London to her room first. It’s a corner suite in the east wing. Light, airy, with a canopy bed draped in sparkly organza and a sitting room overlooking the pool.

Mansion is set up in two main sections. The east and west wing. The east wing is where the girls, Kayne, Alistair, and I reside. It’s strictly off-limits to the clientele unless one of the girls invites them back to her room. That’s their personal space. They decide who comes and who goes. And it’s never a good sign when a client waltzes in and out of an east wing bedroom like he owns it. Because it usually means he does. When that starts to happen, it’s a telltale sign I’m losing an employee. I’m already down two girls as it is. London couldn’t have shown up at a better time. Especially with a social tonight.

I show her the common room. Or the “backstage” as the girls affectionately call it. I had it specially designed, combining two bedrooms into one large one. I wanted it to feel inviting and luxurious.

The spacious area is draped with light pink satin window treatments. The wood floor is covered with soft white throw rugs, several vanities with antique mirrors line the walls, and huge tufted ottomans are situated all around. Every drawer is stocked with enough makeup and hair products to run a high traffic salon, and the walk-in closets are filled to the brim with everything from ball gowns to bondage leather. Fantasy is the name of the game. What the client wants, he gets. And I’ve made sure to cover all my bases.

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