Chapter Twenty-One

Reed

I closed my eyes and pictured Jessica’s face to allay my vertigo and bolster my courage to get through the next hours in Irene Sutton’s office. Harper’s face floated through my mind too. In my heart, it felt like we were already a couple. This betrayal of what we’d shared, including our past, would kill me one way or the other. I felt slayed inside. Irene was forcing me to choose between my daughter and my woman. An impossible predicament. This had to be my last trip in this sickening plastic space bubble on a string. One more ride and I’d puke my guts out for sure, if the sight of Irene in a thong and nipple clamps didn’t do it for me first.

Easy there, stud. Maybe you’re overreacting.

Maybe it would only involve reviewing a few charts and graphs, memorizing SOPs, and learning to Tango just for the hell of it? Yeah right. I couldn’t miss the way she’d always stripped me naked with her eyes every time she looked at me. I might be like a flayed bull by the time the night’s over with strips of skin hanging off my back and the killing sword protruding from my chest.

Training. My. Ass.

I took a deep breath. Since when did I turn skittish over a mercy fuck? Since you’ve become a better version of yourself, dipshit. This bad decision is going to set you back years on the personal growth journey you committed to.

If I hadn’t been camping out at the hospital the last three days, I would have stormed Harper’s office and told her the truth about everything. Told her how I felt every time I was near her, touched her skin or smelled her perfume. Told her how much better Jessica was doing with the new treatment, already responding positively. That Miranda was hopeful and that the good doctor had actually smiled the last time I’d spoken to her. That piece of good news was the only thing holding me together right now.

But until proven otherwise, Irene had me over a barrel, with my bare, impoverished butt sticking out for the world to see. If I had the money to pay her back, I’d leave it in a stack on her desk, call it square and get the fuck out of here. Shit. If I had the money, I’d never have come here in the first place.

The doors opened with a ding that tolled the death knell of my options and my dignity, and I stepped a determined foot onto the carpeted penthouse floor. For Jess, I reminded myself. No sacrifice was too great. For the first time, I realized that I really was a whore. I’d always been more than a little loose with my cock, taking what I wanted whenever I wanted it. But I’d sunk to a new low when I’d thought I could fuck for money and not come out of it unscathed. The resulting scars on my soul would be there for life.

I checked my watch, knowing I was a bit early, anxious to get this shitstorm over with. The entrance door to Irene’s suite was unlocked, and I gave a mock salute to the headless mannequins still silently poised in their display case as I entered. Perhaps these were the remains of former ‘contractors’ who also fell victim to Irene’s manipulations. I may be joining you soon, comrades. I just hope I don’t end up dead on the inside and plastic on the outside.

The reception area lighting seemed dimmer than before.

“Hello?” I called out.

Seeing no sign of Irene, I ventured further into the suite toward her office. To my surprise, I found her sitting at her computer with headphones on, wearing regular business attire, a cocktail length dress and short bolero jacket to cover her arms and cleavage. Did I get the wrong night? She was very clear about the date and time. I knocked on the open doorframe.

Startled, she snatched her headphones off at the sight of me. “Reed. You’re early,” she said, then flashed an approving smile. “But do come in. I appreciate eagerness. It’s so… refreshing.”

I’ll bet. Is that why you’re looking at me like I’m a fat, squirming worm, and you’re an ugly carp? I took a seat opposite her.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your work, but I wanted to make sure I thanked you for your generosity before we got started. Jessica would thank you too, if she could. I guess it’s good that she doesn’t understand finance yet. Best she stay innocent of that challenge for as long as possible.”

Irene closed her laptop and stowed her headphones in a drawer. “Of course. I do hope your daughter’s condition is improving? It was my pleasure to help out. I was just reviewing some video interviews before you arrived. New candidates, you know. Seems I’ve been swamped lately with handsome young men clamoring to join the business.”

I nodded as I thought about all the young, naïve dipshits that were about to become ensnared in the web of a middle-aged black widow. “Yes, she’s responding well. Funny, I don’t recall doing a video interview.”

“Oh,” Irene said, clucking her tongue with a dismissive wave. “That wasn’t necessary for you. You reside here, for one thing. You’re very well known in Minnesota. A celebrity really. That alone puts you in very high demand. These are out of town applicants.”

“I see. And… is there a second thing?”

Her grin turned sly. “I knew you were a professional athlete of course, but…” She paused and lowered her lashes like a shy ingénue. I couldn’t imagine anything further from the truth. “I knew you played for the Caribou. I still have season tickets. Mind you, I don’t get to games as often now, but I still go a couple of times a year. You and Milogost, you’re both legendary. Your talent and speed. His… protection. Why, it sends shivers up my spine just thinking about it.”

“You saw me play?” While my IQ wasn’t in the stratosphere with Milo’s, my mind was sharp enough to work out that she knew much more about me than she’d let on. Including the fiery planetfall of my private life. She’d known I needed money, and she’d exploited it. For her own selfish gain. The way she blushed and fanned her eyelashes all while doing the hair flip? I’d seen that shit so many times from my groupie stalkers that I could recognize it before the neurons even fired in my brain. I could sense a woman’s need to possess me in my gut. In fact, she’d known she could play me before I said a word. Now I just needed to know if we were going to play Let’s Make A Deal or The Price Is Right.

“Oh, yes. Many times,” she said, placing her elbows on the desktop and her chin girlishly atop her interlaced fingers. “That Stanley Cup Final a few years ago against the Kings, you were brilliant. And then you won the Conn Smythe Trophy. When you took your helmet off, dripping in sweat and skated forward for photos… it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen inside the Caribou Center. I shouldn’t say this, but I’ve admired you for a long time. Long before you came to see me, and when you did, well. I didn’t hesitate to take you on. I was very excited at the idea of working with you.”

“Really,” I said, not as an inquiry. All of a sudden, things started to fall into place like the jagged puzzle pieces of a horny old cougar. “So, I wasn’t just the backup goalie in a clutch situation.”

She shook her head. “You did come along at an opportune time, as I had that appointment to fill, but I had you in mind for much, much more. I think you have a golden future here at Irene Sutton Formals… with me.”

“Ugh,” I grunted in acknowledgment. “Management, you mentioned before. Is that what we’re here to discuss? My management apprenticeship?”

“Reed, you needn’t be so obtuse. I see a partnership arrangement here, don’t you?” she said, practically giggling with delight. Though an attractive older woman, right now she reminded me a bit of Elphaba, casting enchantments of triumph. “With your network of in-demand professional athletes, many who don’t have good people around them to manage their money, we could develop a whole stable of highly sought-after escorts. It’s a win-win for everyone involved.”

“And what’s my involvement?” I asked, forcing her hand. The thought of touching her crepey skin made my own crawl. “Outside of professional networking, that is. I’m afraid you’ll have to spell it out, Irene. You know us ex-jocks aren’t the brainiest lot.”

Irene stood and retrieved an envelope from her desk drawer. She tossed it in front of me as she moved to my side of the desk and perched her pencil-skirted hip provocatively on the edge. The position thrust her tits practically in my face, but she’d failed to judge my lack of interest. I supposed that in her warped mind, she was doing me a favor.

“Your pay, before we… get down to business,” she said, looking me up and down in that covetous way of hers that made me want to throw up in my mouth. I wondered how many times I’d fucked a chick in the past that felt the same way as Irene. But I’d never even given a shit. If they made my cock hard, I fucked them, and consequences be damned. “There’s more where that came from, if you’re agreeable.”

I stuffed the envelope firmly in an inside pocket of my jacket before she took it away again in the event I didn’t care for her impending proposition. And it was impending, I was certain.

“Do tell,” I said, leaning forward in feigned interest.

“I plan to retire soon, to a property in Honduras. Do tropical vacations interest you, Reed?”

“I suppose,” I said warily. “But I have obligations here, as you know. I have a family.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware. But if you were to, manage certain things on my behalf, there could be significant rewards. Perhaps join me in the Caribbean once a month. In the meantime, you can stay here and take care of your little girl.”

“You’ll have to define ‘rewards,’” I said, folding my arms impatiently.

Get on with it, you vindictive bitch.

She clucked her tongue, but her condescending tone gave away her true feelings. She thought she had me backed into a corner.

Wrong.

“I see you like to get down to business as much as I do, Reed. Alright. You run this office, handle recruitment and client relations while I’m away… and I’ll continue to fund your daughter’s treatment indefinitely. We’ll make Jessica our first financial priority. No matter what it takes.”

I blinked in astonishment. Bloody hell. She’s asking me to become her right-hand pimp and part-time pool boy? What she’s really asking me to do is commit a felony, and she’s holding the one piece of leverage over my head that she knows would cause a man to trade in his morals. In exchange for the one thing she knows I can’t do without. I felt like I was about to choke from her invisible hands around my throat. God, she’s a piece of work. Who does this?

“I’d have to think about that,” I said, holding back the words I really wanted to say. My lips started to form an f-bomb, but I willed them shut.

“You have to think twice about the health of your child? That’s not the devoted father I was led to believe you were, Reed.” Her face registered concern, like she thought I was the sick one in this scenario. When she’d twisted herself into a human pretzel example of living your life in a muted shade of grey.

I leaned forward, barely holding my anger in check. “Oh, I’m thinking twice, believe me.” About my decision to contact you. And again over my decision to work with you. “You know I can’t afford Jess’s treatments without working for you. And I’m willing to work for you, but that’s where it stops. Let’s make that clear. What you’re asking me to do is criminal.”

Irene pursed her lips in disdain. Obviously not the reaction she was hoping for. Well, she could go take a flying fucking leap. “Perhaps management isn’t for you,” she began, narrowing her eye as if seeing me for the first time. She thought she’d hired a puppet. She was dead ass wrong. “You could continue in your present role, of course. But despite your statements to the contrary, I believe you’re quite taken with Laurie Arnold. You’d really prefer to date her exclusively, am I right?”

That wasn’t a secret. But she still called her Laurie. What in the hell is she really up to? “I told you I wanted to see her again. I also told you that the job is separate from my personal feelings. I’m completely open to taking on other clients,” I lied, hoping a return to the willing and eager lapdog she wanted would force her hand.

“What if you didn’t have to? If I created a dedicated arrangement for the two of you, would that be worth something to you?”

“Like you taking care of hospital fees?” I deadpanned, catching on to her methods. She was quite the negotiator. “And all I have to do in return is cater to Laurie’s every sexual whim?”

“That, and your private services. Whenever I require them.”

Now we were getting to it. I bit back my initial reaction as the offer replayed in my head. She didn’t know the true outcome of my date with Harper. Maybe she didn’t even know Harper as Harper. If she could fix it, explain that she’d pressured me into saying the things I said on the phone? Pay me for doing something I’d hoped to do anyway, and foot the medical bills to boot? And screwing her anytime she snapped her fingers. Nah.

“The answer’s no. Just set up my next gig so I can pay my own way, thank you.”

Irene’s dark eyes lingered on me for an excruciating minute. I doubted she was used to being turned down and I half-expected her to fly around the room backward in a witchy rage, riding her broom of annoyance while releasing the flying monkeys. Then her look softened in an instant, making me realize why she’d enjoyed a meteoric rise to the top in her chosen profession.

“If that’s your choice, of course.” She slid her toned ass off the desk and faced me, her expression one of resignation. “Well then, shall we?”

“Shall we what?” I asked, playing dumb.

Say it. Say the words, Irene. Say the words that will allow me to tell you to fuck off.

An amused smile creased through her heavy makeup. I bet she looked old without it. Like a woman that’s so old her back goes out more than she does.

“Now, let me be clear. You may have declined my offers, but there’s still the matter of your incomplete screening and your mandatory training session. We’ll take care of that now.” She removed her short, tailored jacket and hung it on her chair. “This way, please.”

She stepped outside of her office and gestured for me to follow. Okay, so she wasn’t exactly a bleeding heart, but I did owe her the cost of that treatment. And if I didn’t follow orders now, my choice of future assignments might be severely limited. Like it or not, she had me by the short hairs, and she wasn’t afraid to squeeze. My stomach turned over as I considered what might happen behind that closed door, but I rose from the chair and marched behind like a good little soldier. The vertical zipper on the back of her sleeveless dress swayed like a metallic serpent as she walked, the undulating swish of her hips more disgusting than erotic.

We turned down a hallway I’d not noticed before and entered another room with a solid maple door like all the others in the suite. But beyond it was no boardroom. The velvety wallpaper looked soundproof enough for a recording studio, and the lighting resembled that of a retro discotheque. Mirrored panels were also strategically placed, but the star of the show stood in the center. I’d only seen this shit in the movies. Movies rated XXX. I stifled a laugh.

“Do you like the décor?” Irene asked casually, turning a slow pirouette in the shag carpet while pointing to the round bed and mirrored ceiling.

“Uh, it seems appropriate,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Good,” she replied sweetly, stepping back a few paces. “It’s important that you’re comfortable. Take off your shirt, please.”

Alright, lady. You asked for it.

I peeled off my jacket and dropped it conspicuously to the floor. I saw the excitement already sparking in her eyes as I reached for the hem of the designer golf shirt I wore and pulled it over my head. She licked her lips in apparent anticipation of my next move. But a good soldier waits for orders. The shirt was all she’d asked for.

I dropped it in the pile with my jacket.

“Do I pass?” I asked, pushing her. Yanking her chain was starting to become fun.

Irene shifted her stance and studied my chest and abs in detail. “With flying colors, so far. What are you, a forty-four?”

The size of dress shirt I favored didn’t rank among the questions I expected. “Yes.” Let her get out the measuring tape if she wanted. Instead, she made a slow three-sixty tour around where I stood.

“Very few scars or birthmarks, that’s good,” she commented. Christ, now I knew how show dogs felt. Being judged. Scored. Ranked. My hockey stats didn’t quite seem as personally invasive as this.

“Only on my heart,” I joked.

“Stand over here, please,” she indicated a spot in front of a mirror. “Face me.”

She waited until I’d taken my position, then reached behind her back and began to pull the zipper of the slim-fitting dress she wore. With deliberate, slow movements, she slipped the garment off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I clamped my jaw shut to prevent it from flopping open. She kicked off one suede pump, then the other, and stood before me wearing only her undergarment, a diaphanous nude slip with a lacy hem that reached to mid-thigh and shoulder straps so thin they were almost invisible. Not so invisible were the dark orbs of her bra-less nipples and the triangle of skimpy panties beneath it. My throat tightened. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. I’d let it go too far. I glanced around the air-tight room, planning my exit strategy.

“As you already know, the first rule of being an escort is obedience. What the client wants, the client gets. You do as they ask, as I just did now. Without question, and with physical grace. I’m satisfied with both of those qualities in you. I know my clientele, and I’m sure they would agree.”

“Thank you?” I said, assuming it to be a compliment.

“The second is, of course, keeping yourself trim and fit, which you have no issues with, either. However, there are naturally the more hidden physical assets necessary for… true client satisfaction. I will have to evaluate those personally, you understand. In a fit-for-duty state.” Irene snatched a fringed throw pillow from the bed and dropped it dramatically at my feet. “Are you sufficiently aroused?”

I felt stiff, alright, but not in the way she referred to. Petrified. I cleared my throat in an effort to answer coherently.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” I said, hedging.

No fucking way would I drop my pants for this bitch. Harper’s face popped into my mind. That tragic look in her eyes, but this time, directed at me. Over my latest betrayal. I couldn’t let this go on much longer.

Irene smiled and took a step closer and trailed a manicured finger down my chest. I struggled not to recoil. “Oh, come now, Reed. I’m not exactly repulsive, am I?” she teased, toying with the straps of her filmy slip. She slunk further forward and placed both palms on my chest, appreciatively stroking it. “Experience does count, you know. Wouldn’t it be fun to be with a woman who knows her own body? Knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it?”

I couldn’t even manage a weak nod. The scent of her perfume encircled me in a Chanel No 5 haze, clouding my nostrils and my vision. With that statement, she knelt on the cushion at my feet and reached for the tab of my jean zipper.

“But it can’t always compete with sheer physical presence, which, let’s face it, is the true moneymaker. Let’s see what you’re made of, Reed,” she purred and put her hand on my waistband.

I willed myself not to flinch, listening to the starched rustle of cotton denim, the soft whispers of the air conditioning, and even muted traffic noises from the street below us—and heard it all explode into chaos as the door to the room banged open. Praise Lord Jesus. I’d just been saved from exposing myself to the devil.

“Oh my God!”

My eyes snapped open at the sound of this new voice, and defensively, I pushed Irene away from my unopened fly. She tumbled backward and landed on her ass.

“It’s not what you think,” I said.

“I know what it is,” the intruder shouted. “It’s bullshit, that’s what it is.”