"Christina, I know that you’re hesitant but you gotta trust me. I am not going to steer you wrong. And look, this is what he's offering," my pimp, Thomas, says sliding his tablet over to me and handing me the phone.

I take it with my jaw hanging open at the number glaring on the glass screen. So many zeroes, at least double the number that I have on most nights. I don't know, for one night? Doesn't that mean he's some kind of creep?

Wait, that's like why I have a good pimp and why I'm high end now...because it means I don't end up in lots of little pieces in someone's basement or something.

"Hello?" I say, trying not to sound like a bashful little girl.

"I'm Mr. M, and you are?" The voice on the other end of the line sends a thrill through me. His voice is sexy, and it makes my nipples hard just listening to it.

"I'm...Christina," I say, and shit I am not supposed to use my name.

He says nothing for a moment and I think he knows that I flubbed.

"I want to blindfold you and I want you to submit to me, Christina,” the mysterious client says into the phone.

Well, fuck. "I am hands off. None of my clients are allowed to touch me.” I almost say ‘now’ but I resist. I shiver, saying, “You can paint me with cum but you don't touch me," I tell him.

My pimp brought me to this kind of high end arrangement where you can come on me but you can’t fuck me…and honestly I think plenty of guys get off on paying so much money and still not getting to fuck me. It works for me because I made the decision that after I got so caught up on my stepson David and then actually fucked him…well, I just can't bring myself to actually come for or be touched by another man.

Yeah, I know. It took me two clients to realize that. But I love the freedom and independence in putting myself out for rent. But I also know that I want David.

Bad.

I always imagine my clients are him. I’m still flirting with my stepson like I’m not doing something terrible.

But I can’t just go back to not being a prostitute. I like the money and I like the work, but something about the no-touching rule keeps me sane.

Now this rich asshole wants me to break my rule…and worse, I want to break my rule for him.

"You'll let me touch you," he says, and he actually laughs on the phone.

I believe him. I have a shiver up and down my spine at just the sound of his voice and I think I probably will let him touch me.

"You won't see me, and I'll touch you..."

His voice wraps me in lust, and that's saying something. I close my eyes and start to think about him touching my body.

I love being a girl for rent, whatever fantasy you have, there I am and I can fulfill just about any dark desire anyone can come up with.

But I cost more. I'm worth a lot more. You don't even have to touch me, and you’re going to come. You can cover me in cum but that’s all that’s touching me.

Except Mr. M…he is going to touch me and that's so exciting to me that I can’t think straight.

"I'll call you, C," he says, hanging up.

So why do I have this one client that I'm so intrigued by? I'm still shivering about what he said on the phone, and I feel…I almost feel like I’m betraying David by being attracted to him. Which I know makes no sense. David and I aren’t in a relationship, and we shouldn’t be. I don’t feel guilty when I sell myself to other clients. But that instant attraction I have for Mr. M is upsetting. I don’t want to want him, but I can’t resist.

I told him my real name. That's so crazy. Well I said Christina, like he doesn't know my full name. Still...the only other person in my life I've felt this attracted to...

Well, you wanna talk about off limits. My stepson. That's who I fucked and now, now I can't bring myself to actually fuck another man.

So if you think the fact that I get paid by guys I don't let touch me but allow to come on me is wild, then you don't know the half of it. Because my former husband? He died inside of a man that he was fucking.

Yeah, he had a fucking heart attack and the world caught Mr. Billionaire Natural Gas fucking some man.

He was a terrible husband but that was a pretty terrible way to go.

My stepson David had already gone off to Stanford at the time. Calling him to explain was awkward...and when I went to see him, shame filled all my thoughts.

Even when I went to deliver the paperwork.

I've always found David attractive and I knew that he had a strained relationship with his father. I just wanted to comfort him. Too much attraction and some too sexy La Perla later and...

I know, I know. So now I'm a high-end call girl and that makes me happy.

Controlling who touches me — generally no one — and fantasizing about my stepson, well, that's how I do my days in between cosmos and designer shoes.

So why do I feel like everything is about to change?

Moreover, why do I feel like I want it to?

I mean, maybe this mystery client could help me get over David. I need to. I'm so not the taboo MILF. I mean, he has his whole life ahead of him. His father's death made him wealthy beyond measure. He's top of his class at Stanford and graduates next year. He's going to run the next Fortune 500 and he doesn't need me distracting him from girls his age.

This is good. I'm attracted to this client. I can give him a chance for a night. I mean, that's the point of being for rent.

No one gets to buy me. No one owns me.

This could work out perfectly, right?

Thomas looks at me. "Of course you're going to do it. I mean I know there’s a rule, but aren’t rules made to be broken? This man is fine, if I do say so myself, so like girlfriend you ain't going to have a problem. Do it and get paid."

I laugh, grabbing an airplane bottle of booze from the ice bucket. "Yeah, you want your cut. But you're right, I do want to do this. Why not?"

"There's no reason not to," Thomas says. "Get it girl!" He grabs a bottle and hooks arms with me. "Let's go buy more shoes, Chris?"

"Yeah, let's do that," I say, gasping a little with the aftershock of the alcohol burning as it goes down. "I think there are some new Choos that need a new momma," I say. And in my sick mind, that makes my heart sink.

Because no matter what I'm thinking about David. No man has ever made me come like that...and no man has made me come since.

I should just fuck someone. This guy. Because how else am I going to keep my head on straight? I'm not a heavy drinker and drinking to ignore my horniness? That's not really working.

I grab my bag and fix my red lipstick in the mirror.

Thomas grabs my arm and we head out the door, heading down to shop for something fabulous.

We'll be done with this hotel in a few days and I'll head back to Northern California to take care of some of the last minute affairs that I need to for my late husband's estate. I know I should avoid David, but I want to make sure that everything is in order with him. I have to get my attraction for him out of my system, and this might be the perfect way