My last night with Larry was finally over and it was a new day, but I have no idea how I didn’t recognize the signs. How I didn’t see it.
The attachment.
He became needy. If the other night indicated how he was going to try and proceed. New contract? I think not.
Sigh. Time to e-mail him the Dear John letter.
He was especially twisted last night. He told me all about how his father went to this exclusive club in Dallas. His father was a city official.
Exclusive club? In my head I was like, club? Yeah right. You mean BDSM club? Yeah. Totally.
Why he wanted to tell me his life story was beyond me. If a client wants to do nothing but talk, of course that’s not a problem. It’s a service I provide. To just listen and give an unbiased opinion. I made sure they knew I was no professional and told them that maybe they should seek council if they felt that way. Whether they did or not wasn’t my business nor my concern. Please, like I actually cared for these men? I don’t think so.
In the few two-month session’s we’ve had, he never talked about his life as a kid or his youth. While it was surprising he didn’t because most men liked talking about themselves for long periods of time, I didn’t expect him to tell me what he did. Then wanted what he wanted me to do. In my head, I’m thinking this dude has got to go to a mental facility. Then he said the magical words.
‘I’ll pay you twice what you’re asking for.’
Sigh. I really shouldn’t have done it. And now I just want to get back in the bath and scrub away the sickness I was feeling. Still feel. But he paid me eight grand.
Surprised? Me too. The Taylor side of me wants to cringe and throw up and never tell a soul what happened. It really was too depraved. I’ve done things, but he took it to the next level.
But Sarah however can get just this side of sick to do whatever good ol’ nasty-lasty Larry wanted her to do.
You better get ready for this. It really does make a person sick.
It had been right after I finished working my shift at the restaurant when I got an e-mail from Larry.
Sarah,
I would really like to make this last night something to remember. I know its last minute, but I wanted to change up our engagement. I would love it if you bring a leather flogger, the dildo we have for our meetings, and please, dress in leather. There is something I’ve been wanting to try. I will pay you double.
Larry Cooley
Of course I would. I didn’t need the money, but hell, that other half would pay for the Caribbean cruise itself that I was going on this weekend. I responded with a yes and got ready for my night.
Alright. He was telling me how his father went to this men’s club or whatnot. How one day he followed him there, paid big money to get inside without anyone knowing. How this gentlemen’s club was more than just a strip club and card place. Larry then told me it was almost what I did, but there within it was public within the club. They signed a waiver and all kinds of bullshit. I understood because some of the things I’ve done, well, doesn’t need to be aired. The further he went in, the darker the place was. Sex was presented like a gift to the men. Of course it was for the rich, powerful men. He followed his father until he saw him strip naked and bent over what looked to be a pommel horse bench.
By this time in the conversation, I kept a straight face as he told me the sick, depraved acts his father committed.
And how he wanted that same euphoric look on his face as his father did.
Watching that, especially your own family? Shivers ran up my spine. I was almost ready to tell him I wanted to cancel. However, what did he say?
“Rape me, Sarah. I want it just as hard and rough as that woman gave it to my dad.”
Look, Larry was old, but he was fit and strong.
“Larry.”
“Sarah. I know you can do it. You are the only one who can make me reach that state of complete black. Wipe my mind of my troubles, Sarah. You’re perfect for the job. I’ll sign anything away so as long as you do this for me.”
Then he walked over to his own small suitcase and took out a whip—holy shit—cuffs, ball gag—the fuck?—and a dildo that looked like a monster. Oh, dear God. This man was so twisted. I’ve met twisted men before but this took the cake. It’s something I didn’t know how to feel about. And that was a new feeling for me. Apprehension.
Rape? I mean, everything before this, all the different sick, nasty shit before this, I’ve never had anyone request this. Then I got a closer look at the monster rubber dick. Oh, hell no. That dildo was a strap on.
“Larry.”
“Please, Sarah. I need this.”
I took a deep breathe, putting Taylor and whatever she thought to the back of my mind. This was Sarah’s playing field. If the man wanted to be fucked into oblivion, he’d get that. He wanted pain and euphoria? Okay.
“What is all that for?”
“I want you to cuff me. I want to gag on that ball while you wear just that, all that tight leather. I want you to be rough with me. Fuck me in the ass like you’re punishing me for being a naughty boy.”
“Larry.” I was getting uncomfortable and normally I was a stone wall when it came to this shit.
“It’s okay, Sarah. I want it to hurt. Hurt me bad, Sarah. Everything in my life and that’s the one memory I can’t get out of my head. Please. I want that look to appear on my face. That look of complete ecstasy.”
“Alright.”
“Thank you. Give me instructions. Tell me what to do.”
And I did just that.
I gave it to him nasty, dirty and so fucking depraved, even I was changed. It pushed a boundary that I wouldn’t cross again. Definitely have to cut him off.
Hell, that was two days ago and I was still feeling the heebie-jeebies.
I ended up calling in yesterday at the restaurant because I woke up sweating and panting as if something was coming after me. I made sure I went to the doctor to check everything and Thank God, the things I had done the other night didn’t have any lasting effects except on my brain. Talk about a mind fuck.
Now it was Thursday and I had to get ready for my consultation with Chester Swift. After my shift I came home and took a relaxing bath. Since Tuesday night I’ve taken about six. For consultation’s I always made sure to look the part. Professional. Well, I did that no matter what, but I always made sure I looked my absolute best for the first meeting. Nothing was out of place. I shaved, exfoliated, buffed, washed and I picked out the best black dress suit I had. The pencil skirt I had on came just above my knee, a red silk blouse underneath my blazer. I pulled my hair into a pinned overlay in the back and my long bangs were in an upswept position. I wore red ruby stud earrings and matching fuck-me red, four inch stiletto heels.
It took me a good thirty minutes to get my face perfected. I strapped on my Apple iWatch and picked up my clutch before I walked to the door. However, this time I hesitated as I opened the door.
I looked over to the brown leather belt hanging there and I had to steel myself. What I did Tuesday night was justice. Even if it hadn’t been to the man that actually raped me, well, it was to someone. The way I made Larry feel at the end of our session? He was helpless. He said thank you like a fucking junkie and said he’d email me to set up another contract.
Not that that would happen. Nope. My hands fisted and I thought to myself he deserved what he got. What every single, dirty, disgusting, old, rich, sick son of a bitch deserved.
I knew I had to cut Larry off though. The whole time he became clingy and touchy-feely. But he begged for more pain and I gave it to him. I felt justified in a way, but I felt sick deep inside afterward. And the whole touchy-feely shit was against the rules.
Did I give what Roger did to me justice?
I was tired. So tired.
I was so tired of this shit. Day in and day out. Almost five years of this and my mind was wary. And I was only twenty-two fucking years old. I couldn’t do this much longer.
Maybe this would be my last year. I didn’t need money anymore. Hell, I could run away and never look back if I wanted to. Start over somewhere else. Start fresh.
Maybe that’s what I needed to do. Start a new life somewhere new. Move to another state maybe. Hell, another country even.
I felt my eyes burn when I didn’t look away from that fucking leather strap. I was stuck. Just as I was that day in the parking lot. Stuck. Raped. Beaten. Hurt. I was stuck in this angry, bitter, rage-filled emotional state that just won’t let me move forward.
“UGH!”
Enough of this. This would be my last year. I didn’t care anymore. My mother of course would have something to say about it, but oh damn well. I hit the leather with my fist and walked out the door. It would do me no good to get angry right now. It would definitely show up when I meet old man Swift.
Another day. Another dirty scumbag. Another day of quick and easy money.
⧉
When was this geezer going to get here? Once again, I looked at my iWatch to see what time it was. The man I consulting with, Chester Swift, was late. Chester. It was a pretty funny name. It matched him. Chester the molester. He was at least twenty minutes late. I never waited for a client this long.
What the fuck was I still doing here?
I looked up and scanned the crowd. That’s when my eyes got caught in a gaze so piercing, it sent shivers down my spine. This guy was hot as fuck. He was wearing a leather jacket and a plain white t-shirt that spread tight across his chest like a lover. He had stubble on his chin and above his lip giving him this dark, manly look that I normally didn't like. Definitely too young for my type so I don’t know why I’m still looking. But I’m mesmerized. His dark blonde hair was loose, but brushed back. No hairspray for that guy. I felt my nipples hardening and my core pool with heat. I couldn’t help but tighten my thighs together, and the guy, who sat close enough to notice the table cloth shift, smirked.
How was I responding to this guy? What the fuck was wrong with me? I responded to no man. And this guy was young. He didn’t look my age but he was younger than the men I contracted.
I rolled my eyes and shifted my eyes back to the front entrance. Where the fuck was this p-c at? Potential client or not, I was getting antsy and angry. I took a sip of water the waiter had brought out for me as my eyes shifted around the room. Hot guy was still staring. Asshole was being completely rude. I hadn’t ordered yet because I was going to wait until he got here. But if Mr. Swift wasn’t going to show, I would just have to tell him my services and time wasn’t his to dictate.
Of course, I couldn’t help turning my head and peeking back over to the hot guy a few yards from me. His smirk was still on his face, but this time, he got up.
Don’t look at him. Don’t turn your head. Don’t give him room to talk to you. Just get up and leave.
I fixed my gaze back on the door when I heard the chair next to me get pulled out. Scraping the floor making my eyes cringe.
Don’t acknowledge him, Taylor. Don’t you do it.
“Ma’am?”
Nope. Not going to answer. And who the fuck calls a young woman ma’am?
“Not going to answer?”
Nope. If I had wanted to answer, I would have gotten up and went to your table, asshat. But I kept my cool. Those manners that were practically burned in me since infancy still in control.
“Hmmm…you’re a little young for him, don’t you think?”
That made my entire body stiffen. What the fuck was he talking about?
“Sarah? Isn’t it?”
My teeth clenched together. Who was this guy and how the hell did he know that name?
“He’s not coming.”
My eyes burned with anger, then I looked over at this douchebag. “And you are?”
“Gage Swift. Your not-soon-to-be sugar daddy’s son. So you’re time here was almost a waste.”
“Almost?”
“Yes. Almost.”
“Care to elaborate?” I said that so hard my teeth almost cracked at the end. Yes, I know I was becoming irate. I don’t know why but having this guy’s gaze rake over me felt weird. I’ve never been looked at with anything other than indifference and lust. This man just stared at me with curiosity and triumph. What did he have to be triumphant about? Why the hell am I still here?
Because something about this man made me pause. And that’s another feeling I’ve never had. Something was happening internally inside me. Was like chaos and disorder swirled around low in my belly. I pressed a hand to my stomach and took a deep breath.
Get up, girl. Get up and get the fuck out here and call the next potential client on your list. There has to be someone who’s emailed you by now. Or you could get ready for your fucking cruise.
But I was still sitting here.
A laugh escaped from between his lips and I could hear the snark and the cynicism in it. Fucking asshole. Why did it feel like he was mocking me? Like he knew anything about me?
“I’m here to take his place.”
What in the actual fuck?
My eyes must have bulged out and I jerked back, shocked and appalled.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m pretty sure you heard me, honey.”
Who the hell did this guy think he was?
“I don’t think so, buster. And I’m not your honey”
“Name’s Gage. You sure are a firecracker, ain’t-cha?”
“Ain’t-cha? What side of the dirt did you roll off of, Jed Clampett?”
He sighed, but there was a smile lifting his face despite my bristle tone. “Alright, firecracker. I’ll bite. The old man really isn’t showing up. I foiled his plan, you see. He doesn’t need the excitement in his life.”
“And you do?” My voice was becoming brittle enough to crack glass.
“I’m always up for it. Besides, you look like you need someone who at least can get it up without the aid of pills.”
Laughter burst from my lips. I slapped my hand over my mouth and narrowed my eyes at him.
He made me laugh. A first.
Nope. Remember the last time a rich man’s son attempted something with you? It got you raped on the hood of your car. Don’t go there, Taylor. This one is just the same as Roger. Nothing but a dirtbag like his old man.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I let my face relax and when I opened my eyes, I let the emptiness show before I let him down easy.
“Mr. Swift, I’m sorry, but I just don’t have arrangements with men your age. It’s not what my business is about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do than waste my time with you.”
“Why not? Men my age could at least show you a good time.”
“A good time? Ha. Men your age are no different than men thirty years older. All sick, twisted, fucking disgusting perverts who have no idea how to treat women. So, if you’ll please excuse me.”
I got up and began walking away as fast as I could in these death traps called high heels. I had to get away from this guy. Because even though I was a bitch to him, arguing with him was fun. Fuck that. I didn’t do fun shit. I’m not a fun-type of girl.
“Sarah?”
Don’t stop.
But hearing him call me Sarah just didn’t sound right.
NO! Do not go there. No one gets past that wall. You did before and looked what happened? Never. Never. Never again.
And I just met this guy. Hot as fuck he may be but hell to the fuck no.
I didn’t hear him closing in behind me so I continued on out of the hotel entrance and towards the curb to hail a cab.
Just as one pulled up, I heard his voice calling out my pseudonym again.
“Sarah!”
Why did that name from his deep, gravelly voice make my chest hurt?
This time, as I opened the door, I looked back and there was this look on his face that was dark and fierce and a bright fire raged behind light blue eyes as he walked over towards me. With a determined expression on his face, he didn’t stop walking until he was standing right in front of me.
My hand was on top of the door when he laid his bigger, rougher, tanned one on top. Something shot up my arm and sent sparks right to my vagina.
The hell?
My heart was pounding a mile a minute.
His other hand curled under my chin and his thumb stroked my bottom lip.
Why the fuck was I letting him touch me? And why wasn’t I slapping it away? I should be slapping it away, shouldn’t I? I needed to slap it away, but as soon as my gaze caught his, I got lost in those sky-blue irises of his. They stopped me.
Heart pounding, skin tingling, body trembling. I was letting him touch me.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t looked predatory or demanding. He almost looked as if he was upset about something.
And I couldn’t move. His hands on me were making me freeze up like a Popsicle. Then he did something I did not expect. He curled his hand beneath mine and lifted it to his lips where he settled a soft, short kiss to my knuckles.
“I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”
Then he backed away and headed back into the hotel.
The hell. Just. Happened?
“Miss? You coming?”
The cab driver’s voice knocked me back to reality and I hurried into the back. I gave him the address in a harsh whisper and I couldn’t believe what just happened. I looked at the hand he kissed and I found it shaking.
Holy hell in a hand basket.
The kiss wasn’t even on the lips—not that I ever allowed that—but I couldn’t believe I was reacting this way. I took my hand in my other and stilled it, bringing it to my chest.
‘I’ll just have to prove you wrong.’
What the hell did that mean?
Asshole. I was going to make sure he and I never crossed paths ever again.
Holy Jesus. I was speechless. I was actually speechless.
My assessment before was accurate though.
Take his father’s place? Asshole. I don’t fucking think so.