YOU’RE A FUCKING MORON, I chastise myself in the mirror. You just lashed out at the one person who can keep you safe. Keep you hidden.
He caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come looking for me. But I should have known. No time is my own. It belongs to everyone else. Primarily Jett.
But the anxiety was building, and I had to let it out. I needed the emotional release. I’ve barely slept. Barely eaten. And been worked over continuously this week. It’s like every time I turned around there was another man to service. Including Kayne. He’s the most intense of all. A straight up machine.
I needed a minute. A breather. And as soon as I saw Jett, I knew what he wanted, too.
Sometimes the past collides with the present. Sometimes I find myself crumbling, and the only way to endure is to fall apart and then glue back each of the broken pieces. I’ll never truly be whole. There are cracks and crevices at the very center of my core. But I go on. Why? I’m not quite sure. It would be so easy just to end it. Just two quick flicks of a razor blade and all my suffering would be over. But even that doesn’t seem like a way out. Suicide isn’t appealing enough for me to actually attempt. Something inside pushes me on, telling me to live. I just wish I knew exactly what that something was.
Finding my second wind, I drop my towel on the floor and throw on some clothes. A pair of skimpy underwear, an oversized T-shirt that reads “Love Pink” across the shoulders, and a pair of white knee socks with black stripes around the calf.
I don’t even bother to brush my hair. I just hurry out of the room and prepare to grovel.
I search all over for Jett. His room, backstage, the mobile spa, the living room, dining room, even the kitchen and service kitchen where he found me making the chocolate crinkles. He ate almost all of them in bed that night. An entire pile of cookies and a huge glass of milk. I don’t know why that makes me smile. Maybe because he’s the first person to ever enjoy something I have to offer other than my body. Enjoy may be putting it mildly. He moaned like I was giving him head.
Baking is an outlet for me. Keeps my hands busy and my oscillating thoughts at bay.
The last place I look is his office. Hoping beyond hope he’s holed away in there. I knock on the door self-consciously. “Jett?”
Three heartbeats pass before the door swings open, and Jett leans on the frame. The same way he did the first day I met him.
“I’m sorry,” I immediately spill, wrapping my arms around myself and dropping my eyes submissively. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to walk in. I know I was out of line. I’m so sorry. Please don’t send me away. You can punish me however you want, just please don’t make me leave,” I beg.
Jett clutches my jaw and forces me to look up. An unfathomable expression on his face. “What would ever make you think I’d want to punish you for your outburst?”
Because that’s all I know. That’s what happens when I’m disrespectful or disobedient.
“Don’t you?” I question.
“No. Do you think you’re the first woman to walk into this house with issues?”
I shrug because I honestly have no idea. Jett releases my jaw and pushes the door open wider.
“In.”
I step inside the room, and he closes the door behind me. After which he saunters back to his desk in bare feet, slim blue jeans, and a white V-neck T-shirt. He has this whole European style with the attitude to match.
“Come. Sit,” he instructs as he settles behind his desk. I follow, going for one of the chairs opposite him. “No. Here.” He stops me before my butt hits the cushion, tapping the top of his sleek wood desk. “Directly in front of me.”
I sit where I’m told, sliding myself between his legs. He leans back in his chair, laces his fingers over his chest, and gazes up at me. Those aqua eyes picking me apart piece by tiny, broken, fractured piece. It’s unnerving.
I cross my ankles and anchor my hands, trying to look anywhere but at Jett. Which is nearly impossible because his immense presence engulfs the room.
“Do you want to tell me what that outburst was all about?” he asks evenly.
“No,” I shoot back almost immediately.
“Is there anything pressing I should know?”
“No. I was just having a moment.”
“A woman moment or I need to talk to a shrink moment?”
Shrink? I press my lips together, reluctant to answer that one.
“London?” His strict tone is probing.
“I’m fine.” I attempt to sound assuring. “It was just a very long week. I needed to decompress. I’m not used to anyone seeing me like that.” Jett was the very first, and I’m completely ashamed. My meltdowns are my business and not meant to be shared with anyone else.
“I see.” He exhales and leans forward, resting his hands on my bare thighs. Why do I like it when he touches me? “I want to be clear. You can come to me with anything. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or tired or just need a break, you have to tell me. You have to trust me,” he reiterates for the thousandth time. I still don’t. Probably never will. Even though his eyes are sincere and his voice is inviting.
I just nod, pretending to buy into his bullshit.
“I know you’ve had a very long week.” He begins to rub circles into my tender muscles with his thumbs. It actually feels good. Almost therapeutic. “That’s why I’ve stayed away.”
“From what?”
“Not what. Who. You.”
“Me, why? Did I do something wrong?” I frown. Besides throwing a shampoo bottle at your head.
“Wrong? No. You do everything fucking right.” He digs his fingertips into my skin. “That’s the problem. You’re impossible to resist.”
“You don’t have to resist me. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a sure thing.”
“I have noticed. I’ve noticed how you have every one of my clients eating out of your hand. How you walk into a room and steal everyone’s attention. How you carry yourself. How seductive you are. How I can’t be around you without dying to touch you.”
“You can touch me whenever you want. However you want.”
“That’s only partly true. I’ve also seen how tired you are at the end of each day.”
“How I feel doesn’t matter.”
Jett sits up straight with a perturbed look on his face. “Of course it matters.”
“It never has before,” I argue.
“Well, it does with me.” He spreads my legs. “I don’t want what’s leftover when it comes to you. I want all of you. The entire meal. All seven courses.” He begins to kiss his way up my thigh and something strange tingles in my lower abdomen. “When we’re together, I want all your pleasure and all your pain.” He sucks on my skin still moving dangerously higher. “I want you strong enough to endure every dirty thing I desire. And I want you to enjoy all those things just as much as I do.” He plants a kiss right between my legs over the scarce scrap of material before sliding it over to the side.
“What are you doing?” I jump, grabbing a fistful of his blond hair.
“What does it look like?” He leans forward. “Showing no restraint whatsoever.” He steals a hot lick of my pussy, and I gasp. “Why so skittish, little bird? You’re acting like you’ve never been eaten out before.”
“I just don’t understand why you prolong the inevitable. If you want to fuck me, just fuck me. That’s what I’m here for. Why bother with foreplay?”
Jett halts all movement and looks up at me with just his eyes. His tongue a hazardous inch away from my dewy slit.
“I don’t want to just fuck you,” he snaps. “I want to pleasure you. I want to hear you moan as you come on my face and then again all over my cock. I want you begging me for more until you can’t speak and neither one of us can breathe. That’s what I fucking want.”
My jaw drops.
“Jesus, London. What has your life been like?”
Sheer hell. I bite back my response.
Jett stands and hovers over me. “Has anyone ever touched you?” He runs his thumb down my cheek so sweetly that if I could actually feel, it might make me cry. “Like, really touched you?”
“Not in the way I think you mean.”
“What a fucking tragedy.” He kisses me as sweetly as he touched me. It’s completely foreign. I want to hate it, but I don’t. I can’t comprehend why he even cares. I’m no one. Nothing. A woman he can use and then toss away. Isn’t that what every man wants?
“I want to touch you,” he asserts.
“You don’t need my permission.”
“I’m not asking for your permission. I’m asking if you want me to touch you. If you want me to be the first man who shows you what real pleasure feels like.”
“Does shared pleasure really even exist?” I counter cynically.
“God, you deprived woman.” He pets his hands down my damp hair. “By the time I’m through with you, there’ll be no doubt. Only faith.”
Nice try. But I had to learn what “pleasure” was all by myself. I had to navigate murky waters alone to understand how to alleviate the stress forced on my body. And even then, the “pleasure” was never really mine. It belonged to the man invading me at any given moment. He either stole the orgasm or denied it altogether. And if I didn’t obey what was being dictated, there were severe consequences. The only true “pleasure” I have ever known is from my own hand. It’s the way I want it, fast or slow, soft or hard. On my own time. In my own head. So unless Jett can penetrate more than just my pussy, I have little belief in this thing called “shared pleasure.” It might exist for some, but definitely not for me.
“You haven’t answered me, robin. Do you want me to touch you?” He slips his hand under my shirt and runs his thumbnail down the center of my abdomen.
“Yes,” I lie.
He cocks his eyebrow, and for a split second, I question whether or not he buys my b.s. Yes or no, it’s clear he wants to touch me. And so it goes. The story of my life. Another man added to the laundry list to please. This one just happens to talk a good game. Great game. He almost has me convinced he cares about my pleasure as much as he does his own. But if I’ve learned anything in my twenty-six years, it’s that talk is cheap, and men are selfish.
“Lift your shirt up. Show me that beautiful body,” Jett requests.
I pull the hem of my T-shirt up and tuck it under my chin, exposing my breasts, my stomach, and my wide-spread legs.
Jett moans appreciatively, scanning his bright blue orbs over the curves of my naked body before sitting back down in his chair. No touching, fondling, or pinching. He just admires. He admires for a long time, content with me sprawled out on his work space.
I start to feel the heat of his gaze creep into places that don’t usually respond. Pick up on the licks of the air tickling my nipples and the sheen of wetness coating my pussy. All from just his fucking stare.
“Do you believe me when I tell you you’re beautiful?”
“Yes,” I lie again.
He nods his head impassively. His aloof response makes me restless.
“I thought this was supposed to be about shared pleasure?” I question his methods.
“It is. Did you just think I was going to stick my dick in you and be done?”
“That’s usually how it happens.”
“Not with me. I had you begging last time we were together, no?”
I pause to think. He did. I thought it was a fluke. He’s hot. I’m attracted to him. I was already close to the breaking point. Kayne was already fucking me. There were multiple variables at play.
“I got wrapped up in the moment,” I reluctantly admit.
“That moment was the very beginning. Think about how hard you came.”
My cheeks inflame. I came pretty fucking hard, and it shocked the shit out of me.
Jett smirks haughtily. He thinks he’s making headway. One fluky orgasm doesn’t prove a thing.
“I can make you feel like that every single time. I will make you feel like that every single time. I’ll give you things you didn’t even know you wanted.” He leans forward and blows lightly on my pussy, the warm air over my cool, wet flesh causes it to prickle.
“Mmm.” I bite my lip to stifle my reaction.
“It’s okay to like it. You’re supposed to like it.”
“I like when I do it,” I boldly admit.
“You’re going to like it when I do it, too. When we’re together, your enjoyment is my responsibility. You don’t need to think. You don’t need to worry. All you need to do is feel.” He blows again, closer this time, causing my clit to burn.
“And what do I have to give you?” I huff as he teases me. Nothing in life is ever free. There’s always a price, and I know that better than anyone.
His facial expression morphs into something devious. I think I just asked the million-dollar question. “Your obedience.”
“Is that all?” I quip.
“For now.” He hooks his arms around my thighs and pulls me toward him so a portion of my ass is hanging off the edge of the desk. He never takes those devious eyes off me as he slowly inches his face closer and closer to the center of my splayed legs. I brace myself, but the connection never comes. He halts his mouth a breath away from my glistening pussy. What is he doing?
I don’t move a muscle, anticipating his next move. Waiting until my impatience grows like a pestering weed, blanketing my entire body.
Men have tortured me before but never like this. Never in a way that twisted my desire in a titillating direction. What is he waiting for? He wants to prove himself so badly. He wants to make me come and actually like it? Do it already.
Then I realize. He’s waiting for me. He wants me to ask for it. Beg for it. He wants to know that I’m in this for real. As skeptical as I am of his intentions, I’m also curious. Does he just talk a good game or is he the real deal?
He wants a submissive? I can be that. I was trained by the most ruthless man on the planet. Submission was implanted into my bones. But I don’t know if I can be more than that. If I can give more than that. If I can just let go and hand over my pleasure on a silver platter. That seems impossible. I have relied on myself for so long, I’m not sure how to rely on another. How to let go of that control.
Our eyes lock as I deliberate. It seems he’s content to wait forever, just dangling whatever he has to offer like a carrot on a stick.
There’s something about him, though. Something calming. Something alluring. Something undeniably seductive.
Trust him.
I can’t trust anyone. It’s too dangerous.
Jett blows on my clit again, and I feel the arousing sensation splinter across every boundary. I drop my head and arch my back. An unexpected feeling of impunity rolling over my exposed limbs.
Why does that simple gesture affect me so? Why do I like it so much? Why do I want more?
“Jett,” I sigh unconsciously, as if a plea, not even realizing his name escaped my lips. But my simple supplication is all it takes to spark him on. I nearly catapult off the desk the moment hot flesh connects with hot flesh. Something inside me ignites as Jett unleashes every wicked thing reflected in his eyes. My fears come screaming to life as I’m sucked into a brave new world of desire.
I gasp as his tongue explores, rolling and sliding and flattening over my hot, pink, buzzing bundle of nerves.
I don’t recognize myself or the reaction my body is having. The want spreading through every extremity. I try to spread my legs wider, coax him closer, gain more pressure, but I’m trapped.
“Ohhh,” my cries ring out as he buries his face between my legs and gorges on my pussy like it’s his all-time favorite sweet treat. His indulgent moans are as deafening as mine. The vibrations from his mouth and his insistent tongue send me to my safest place. I drift into the darkness, escaping my past and disconnecting from the present so I can find my release.
“You’re going to make me come.” I jerk in his iron grasp as butterflies do revolutions in my lower belly. I’ve never declared that to a man and actually meant it, but here I am, flying freely, handing Jett something I thought I could never give anyone. The lashes of his tongue get harder and faster over my stinging clit, as I bolt toward my breaking point.
“Make me come, oh god, make me come.” I grab two fistfuls of his hair and hold on for dear life. Who is this woman I’ve become? Sincerely begging a man for pleasure? For release? Chasing after an orgasm I didn’t initiate. One I didn’t have to fight for or hide. The whole experience is so illicit.
“Jett, I need more,” I exclaim. Just a touch more pressure and I’ll be soaring.
With a nip of his teeth and a breach of his finger, my insides snap. My muscles seize, my breath catches, and my thighs quiver as an orgasm of epic proportions thunders through me.
My head swims as I recover from the eruption. I wouldn’t believe it to be true, but that is the second time this man has taken me to a place beyond my own reality.
With my hands still gripped tightly in his hair, he lifts his head, breathing as wildly as a rabid animal. His eyes are ferocious, and his body is tense as he licks the remnants of my climax from his swollen lips. There’s pure dominance flowing through him. He’s a completely different man. Dr. Jekyll just transformed into Mr. Hyde. My breathing speeds up to the pace of his as he devours me with a bloodthirsty stare.
Stealthily, he opens and closes one of the desk drawers, producing a little gold foil packet. He holds it up. No direction, no instruction. I take it like I know I should, pull him closer by the waist of his pants and proceed to unleash the bulge beneath his zipper, deadlier than a loaded weapon.
I sheath his pierced erection and sweat from the memory of those two little balls massaging my inner pelvic walls.
Jett loses his shirt, and I get my first clear look at his entire physique. Perfected physique. Is it possible to expire from just the sheer sight of a man? Because Jett should be put on a pedestal and admired in a museum. Like Adonis. No, not like, he is Adonis. An immaculately sculpted body with a magnificent face to match.
Boldly, I reach out and touch his chest, tracing my fingertips over the intricate detail of his brightly colored tattoo. It looks like a wave is crashing over his shoulder onto his right pec. He snatches my hand just as I brush over the ring pierced through his nipple. “Enough.”
I try to pull my hand back, chastised, but he keeps a firm grip. “I like when you touch me. And you can explore my entire body later, with your fingers, with your tongue, with whatever the fuck you want, but right now”—he pulls my T-shirt off—“I want these hands”—he binds my wrists with the material, tightly—“right here.” He drapes my arms around his neck before leaning forward and bracing himself on the desk. Leaving me dangling from his body. “Bring your feet up and spread your legs as wide as you can.”
I draw my legs up, anchoring my heels on the edge of the wooden desk as wide as they will go. Jett groans. “Perfect.” He rubs his erection through my soaked slit. “So fucking perfect.” He lines up the head then drills his cock so deep and so hard he lifts my hips right off the desk, causing me to cry out.
“God, that sound.” He punches his pelvis again and again, hitting me in my very center, inducing the same high-pitched sound. I squeeze him tight, like I’m conditioned to do, as our hips continuously collide from the force of his hammering cock. “Kiss me,” he orders in a raspy voice right before his tongue invades my mouth. I open wide, yielding to his demand, to his body and our physical connection.
“Jesus Christ, woman, how do you squeeze so fucking tight?” He looks down where we’re joined with a growl.
“Years of obedience,” I offer, biting back my bitter tone.
Jett slows his pace, settling into a slow rock. It’s so good like this. So deep, so penetrative, I can feel the balls of his piercing massaging my sensitive walls. It makes my clit ache and my pussy spasm.
“You like that?” Jett picks up on my physical response.
“Like what?”
“Slow, deep.” He lays me down and pushes my bound hands over my head so they’re dangling over the edge of the desk.
“I guess I do.” I’ve gotten quite the education over the past few minutes. It’s bittersweet. Much more bitter than sweet when I think about how my life was robbed from me.
“Hey”—Jett clutches my face—“stay with me.”
“I’m right here.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true. I’m drifting away. From him and myself. Holing up in that dark mental space that keeps me safe. Keeps me sane.
“No, you’re not. I see you slipping away. I see it in your eyes.” He circles his hips, filling me thoroughly and languidly as he fights to keep me with him. “One day, you’re going to tell me all your secrets.” He licks a hot line from the tip of my nipple, over my breast and up my neck. His statement and expression yank me back. I’ll never tell him my secrets. I’ll never tell anyone. They’re my cross to bear. My nightmare to live with.
“I don’t have any secrets,” I lie for the umpteenth time.
Jett freezes, buried balls deep inside me, and looks down with a pissed-off expression. “Stop bullshitting me, little bird. We all have secrets. Some bigger than others. Some darker than others. But when we’re together. Like this.” He thrusts and my core contracts. “There’s you and me, and then there’s everything fucking else. Got it?”
I pant, trapped in the severity of his blue-green eyes.
“London?” He bites my earlobe, and I respond.
“Yes. I got it.” I just don’t know how realistic it is.
“Say it. When we’re together, there’s you and me, and then
there’s everything fucking else.” He slips his tongue into my ear jolting me to repeat after him.
“When we’re together, there’s you and me, and then there’s everything fucking else,” I echo his words in a breathy rush.
“Again.” He takes my face, forcing me to look at him.
“When we’re together, there’s you and me, and then there’s everything fucking else,” I mutter again as the tension skyrockets between us.
“Good girl.” Jett releases a disentangling breath, seemingly satisfied with my declaration and eager to seal the deal with a kiss. Or in our case, an orgasm.
He begins to pump harder, pinning me beneath him, groping my breasts and owning my body. In my tethered, subdued state, I have no choice but to hand myself over.
I absorb every disciplinary, body-jerking thrust as he drags me to the pinpointed pinnacle. Demanding my word and my pleasure, he works me over, filling me incessantly, stimulating me perpetually until the two of us are more flammable than propane.
I tremble at the brink, my pussy throbbing and my clit burning. Lifting my legs, I provide the leeway we both need to get swept away.
Jett latches onto one of my nipples as we both come, caught in a clash of climaxes. He tugs on the little nub, abusing it with his mouth as he wrings out every drop of our shared arousal.
Once we’re both depleted, and there’s nothing left to give, Jett releases my nipple with a sloppy pop and rests his head on my heaving chest. I lay there incapacitated, a bound submissive, just listening to the sound of our choppy breaths.
“You,” Jett huffs, “are beyond amazing.” He rests two more seconds before pushing himself up. “Stay right there.” He removes the condom and tosses it in the trash, then pulls up his pants. I stay still in my position. Hands draped over my head, legs spread, body naked.
“Mmm.” Jett kisses up and down my torso, running his hands along my curves. “These are sexy.” He snaps the hem of one of my knee socks.
“As sexy as a leash and lace?”
He skims his lips up the center of my chest and along my neck, coming to rest his face in front of mine. “Yes, just a different kind of sexy.”
“Good to know. I want to please my new Master.”
“I’m not your Master,” he states. “That term is earned, not taken. And I haven’t earned anything yet. I do want your obedience.” He runs his fingertip around my lips. “But you’ll decide if and when you become my submissive.”
I’m rendered speechless. He’s giving me the choice? “For now, we’ll just play. You’ll learn to trust me. And then we’ll see how far we can fly.”
I simply nod because words escape me.
“Good.” He presses a soft, tantalizing kiss on my mouth before he pulls me up. “This is just the beginning.” He unties my hands and then redresses me in the wrinkled shirt. “One day soon, I’m going to steal you away, tie you up, and do whatever I damn well please with you,” he rasps in my ear, sending shivers right down my spine. Delicious, titillating, arousing shivers. How does he do that? If any other man said those words, I’d shudder with fear, not excitement. But he excites me. And that does scare me. It also makes me curious. Curious to see what else he’s capable of.
I think I’m about to find out if curiosity really did kill the cat.
“There’s something for you upstairs. Contrary to what you may believe, I came into your room for another reason besides sex.”
“I didn’t think anything besides sex existed.”
“There does. It just runs a very distant second.” He tucks some of my damp hair behind each ear at the same time, then brushes his hands lightly down my neck and arms, almost affectionately. Almost lovingly. Why does he touch me like that?
I’m nothing. No one.
“What is it?” I wonder aloud.
“You’re just going to have to go upstairs and find out.” Jett smiles warmly. “You’ll have to tell me if you like it.” He helps me off the desk. “I have some things to tend to. Go play with your new toy.” He spanks my ass, and I jump. “You were just promoted to elite status.”
“What does that mean?” I cock my head.
“You’ll know soon enough,” he muses, and that devilish glare returns. “Now go.”
“Yes, Jett.”
I stare at the expensive, intricate, intimidating camera. That’s my new toy. I know I told Jett I was interested in photography, and he wants each of us to have a hobby and be well-rounded, but what the heck am I supposed to do with this thing? I have no idea how it works, and frankly, I’m scared to touch it for fear of breaking it. So I’ve just been staring at it the last few days, trying to decode the instructions. He couldn’t have gotten me something smaller? A point and shoot maybe? A camera with fewer settings and buttons and lenses. Why are there three lenses? It’s all completely overwhelming, and it makes me want to cry.
I abruptly hear a loud, frustrated sigh in the large desolate library. I thought I was alone. I escaped in here hoping a change of scenery would jog my comprehension. Not so much.
I get up and begin to search. Jett has the room set up like a real library, with desks and computers and rows of bookshelves. There are even reading nooks with plush red velvet chairs and Tiffany lamps, which is where I find Jenna, a.k.a. Spice, hiding.
She looks as frustrated as I do.
“Why did I decide to learn French?” She looks up at me from her odd position in the chair and scowls. She’s sprawled out over the armrests with one leg draped over the back.
“Son langage d’amour?” I reply.
She bounds up. “You speak French!”
“Oui.”
“Can you help me?” she pleads with her big green eyes. Jenna is young. Just nineteen. Adorable, bubbly, and so full of spirit. As much as I like being around her, I’m sad this is her life. That she has to sell herself to random men to survive when it’s plain to see she has so much potential. I wish I could rescue her. Save her from horrors that may be yet to come. I wouldn’t wish my existence on a snake. And thinking about this vivacious girl living through a quarter of the atrocities I have breaks my heart.
“Of course, I’ll help you.” How could I say no when an overwhelming protectiveness takes over.
“Thank you! Jett expects me to have a full conversation with him next week, and I’m shitting myself because I can barely string two sentences together. I have the basics, and I listen to the audio teachers but actually conversing . . .” She turns pale.
“Don’t worry. Practice makes perfect. You’ll be conversing beautifully in no time.”
“I’m going to need a lot of practice.” She curls her lip sardonically.
“I have complete faith in you. If you can live in this house and survive the way you do, you can be anyone and do anything.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” I lock my arm with hers and walk her out of the nook. It’s claustrophobic in there.
“Jett says the same thing. That this is just a temporary stop on the train of life.”
“He actually said that?”
“Yup. Kinda hard to believe a pimp is being so positive, right?” She laughs. “He really doesn’t feel like a pimp, though. He’s more like a hot-ass Mr. Miyagi,” she giggles at her own joke. “He isn’t like any of the other ones I’ve had. He reminds me of a Master, no, a doting Dom.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a doting Dom,” I hiss pessimistically.
“I don’t think there’s anyone else like Jett on the planet, so that’s maybe why.”
“You’ve got me there. He is unique.”
We both giggle now. I can’t remember the last time I did that.
“Jenna? How many pimps have you had?”
“A couple. Been on the streets since I was fourteen. My mom was a junkie, and I never knew my dad. I had to eat somehow. So one of her ‘boyfriends’ set me up. He was a real asshole. And it started from there.”
I listen to her sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She chews on her fingernail. “There are worse places to end up than here, right? Beautiful mansion, fancy clothes, high-class johns. No one hits you or beats you or rapes you or tells you that you’re worthless.”
This is the sickening truth.
“There are definitely worse places,” I agree dejectedly.
“Something tells me you’ve been there.” The girl is wise beyond her years, but has no idea.
“Is that your camera?” She perks up when she sees the body and lenses scattered all over a table.
“Yup. And I have no idea what to do with it.”
Jenna hurries over excitedly and picks it up. “This is awesome.” She starts snapping away.
I’m glad someone isn’t afraid to use it.
“Maybe we should switch. I’ll have the conversation with Jett in French, and you can be the photographer.”
“Sounds like a fair trade.” The shutter clicks. “Tell you what. You help me with French, and I’ll help you set up a Pinterest page so you can learn how this thing works. Twinkie did that when she wanted to learn how to apply all this crazy makeup. She’s killer with cosmetics now.”
I consider her suggestion. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
“Definitely not. And what did you just tell me? Practice makes perfect, right?” She hands me the camera. “Don’t think. Just point and shoot.”
I take the Canon. “That seems too easy.”
“Gotta start somewhere. I’ll even be your first model.” She strikes a pose.
“I’ll direct you in French.” I snap her picture.
“It’s a done deal.”