by Kandi Kayne
CONTENTS
Copyright
Title page
Orly Press Titles
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Serial Installments
About the Author
Orly Press Titles
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2012 Kandi Kayne, all rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, emailed, or copied without author permission.
The author thanks you for your support of artistic expression and anti-piracy efforts.
Red Hot Rose
A Serial Erotic Romance Novel
Kandi Kayne
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To the sexy girl who lives in each of us.
CHAPTER ONE
I walked down the sidewalk, pulling at the bottom of my skirt, trying to cover more of my legs than the material was meant to.
“Stop fiddling with it, Rose. Just leave it,” said my best friend Jessica, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.
“This is stupid. I don’t want to go. Please just give me the keys and let me leave.” I jerked my hand out of her grasp and used it to try and pull my tank top up higher. My boobs were practically falling out of it. It’s not that they’re huge and would cause a fuss if they did or anything, but still … I wasn’t the public exposure kind of girl, preferring instead to keep myself covered in way more clothing than I was currently wearing.
“Hell to the no. You’re coming. And I promise, you’ll thank me for it later.” She shot me a million-watt smile, showing off her perfectly straight movie-star teeth. “It’s going to be fun and educational.”
“I doubt that very highly. Applying for an escort job doesn’t sound fun or like something that will teach me anything but the ultra low levels I’m willing to stoop to in order to pay for my last semester of college.”
“Shush. And fix your lipstick,” Jessica said, frowning at me in front of the escort service office.
I reached up tentatively. “What’s wrong with it?”
She slapped my hand away and leaned in closer, brushing her finger under my lower lip. “I swear to God, it’s like you’ve never worn makeup in your life. You’re such a dork.”
“Hey,” I said, pushing her shoulder gently in mock offense, “I wear makeup. I just don’t like to wear the heavy stuff. This lipstick makes me feel like a prostitute. And so does the outfit.” I yanked on my top again.
“You just need to show off your assets, that’s all. When we go out on jobs you don’t have to go so balls-out.”
I smiled. “Balls-out. Ha! If I had balls, they would be out with this skirt being so short.” I snickered, the image of a girl with a set of testicles dangling out of a skirt assailing my mind.
“That is so gross, I’m not even going to comment,” said Jessica, looking through her little clutch purse for a mirror to check her own lipstick.
I pulled the mirror away from her and grabbed her arm, dragging her through the door with me. “Come on. Your face is perfect.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Let’s get this over with.”
The woman wearing a pencil skirt and shimmery blouse walked around me slowly, tapping her finger to her lips as she appraised every inch of my body.
I tried not to squirm but it was impossible. I felt like a piece of cattle getting ready to hit the auction block. I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right, opening and closing my hands which had suddenly gone sweaty.
“Hmmm … long legs, that’s a plus. Hourglass figure … nice. The hair’s a bit of a mess, but that can be fixed.”
I frowned. What’s wrong with my hair? Jessica said it looked nice. I looked over at my friend, but she shook her head rapidly in tiny movements, wrinkling her lips together in a way that I knew meant I should keep my comments to myself. She was always such a killjoy.
“Breasts not too big, not too small.” The woman lifted up my hands and examined my manicure. “Nice nails, but they need to be painted. Preferably red.”
She held onto my hands making me even more nervous. If she tried to kiss me, I for sure was going to head-butt her. I don’t care what Jessica said, some things were just too outer limits for me. I was almost done with my undergraduate degree in marketing and public relations and was willing to do nearly anything to pay for my last few classes - as evidenced by my standing here. But kissing girls? No. Not gonna happen.
She stared into my eyes for a minute before dropping her gaze to my nose, chin, neck and then chest. “Decent face. A little innocent-looking which could be a huge plus … if she fixes the hair.” She let my hands go and stepped back, turning to look at my friend. “Thanks for bringing her over. You know we appreciate referrals.” She left her examination of me and returned to her desk, lowering herself into the seat as she smoothed the back of her skirt towards her knees.
“So, does she have the job?” asked Jessica anxiously.
The woman looked at me, an eyebrow raised in challenge. “The question is, does she really want the job?”
Oh damn. I’m busted. I felt my face getting hot and the sweat starting to flow under my arms. I opened my mouth to say something, but my traitor voice crapped out on me and wouldn’t formulate the words that would assure her that this is definitely something I wanted to do. Apparently, want and need were very clearly defined deep down inside me.
Jessica jumped to the rescue. “Of course she wants the job. She’s desperate for the job, in fact.” Jessica spared me a scolding look before continuing. “She gets nervous during interviews. It’s the lipstick. I made her wear it.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, looking from my friend to the woman. Jessica was nothing if not creative with her excuses. I wondered if the woman would fall for it.
“Is that so?” asked the woman, giving Jessica a watery smile.
“Yes. And the top. She prefers strapped and not strapless. I promise, I will make sure she’s dressed appropriately for the next event.”
The woman sighed, moving some papers around on her desk and then tapping away at the keys on her computer as she examined the screen. “Well, we have something tonight and two of our girls called in sick. It’s not your usual event, but if you’re up for it,” she turned and gave me a penetrating look, “and are willing to watch over your friend here, I’ll give you both a shot.”
Jessica jumped up and down a few time with her hands clasped together. “Yes, yes, yes! Thank you so much! I promise, I’ll totally keep an eye on her and make sure she behaves herself.”
“And I don’t need to remind you that we don’t need teenage cheerleaders at our events, that our clients expect sophistication and beauty, yes?”
Jessica stopped her jumping, and her enthusiastic response disappeared, replaced by serious self-
possession that was almost shocking in its contrast to her earlier excitement. “Of course. I know what our clients expect and I always deliver. Don’t I?”
The woman gave us her first genuine smile of the day. “Yes, Jessica, you always do. Which is why I’m giving your friend a chance, even though every fiber of my being is telling me to send her away.”
I went from smiling to frowning in one second flat. Should I be insulted I’m not escort service material or proud? I couldn’t decide, and since I needed the money so desperately, and no one else in town seemed to be hiring, I accepted the fact that this was my very last hope. I pasted a smile back on my face and mustered up all the courage I had left in my body to say, “Thank you, Ms. Corrigan. I promise, you won’t regret it.”
“See that I don’t,” she said, her attention back on her computer, an obvious dismissal in her tone.
Jessica grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room. I tripped on the corner of an oriental carpet that laid over the marble floors and nearly went down, but she caught me. Together we stumbled out of the office and out into the hallway.
The door shut behind us and Jessica stood in front of me, smoothing her hair and dress down. “Well. That wasn’t the most graceful exit I’ve ever made, but I guess it doesn’t matter … ” she grabbed my hands and squealed, “… since you got the job!” She jumped up and down, her face stretched into a manic expression of sheer excitement.
I shook my head at her, pulling my hands away so I could yank my skirt down and my top up. “You are a lunatic, you know that?
I took one last look at myself in the mirror of the tiny bathroom we shared in our little apartment, turning my head slowly from left to right, taking in the sophisticated chignon that Jessica had coaxed my hair into.
“Are you sure, this is okay?” I asked, reaching up to feel it.
Jessica yelled, “Don’t touch it!”
I jumped in fright, my hand flying back to my side. “Geez. Ease up on the caffeine, spaz.”
“Move,” said Jessica, shoving me over with her hip so she could lean in closer to the mirror and put on another layer of lipstick.
“You are the only person in the world I’ve ever met who can wear that bright red stuff and get away with it,” I said, watching her technique closely. If it were me standing there, it would already be on my teeth. “Everyone else just looks like a clown when they try.”
“Thank you. I think you could wear it too, but I’m afraid you’ll smear it at the party and I won’t be around to repair you.”
“I’m fine with my gloss.”
She stood back up straight and turned to look at me, examining my face and hair again for the fiftieth time. “At least it’s tinted gloss. Just make sure you reapply throughout the night and check every once in a while that it hasn’t smeared. I’ve put enough goop in your hair that it should stay put.”
“I’m going to have to use nail polish remover to get this damn hair-glue out tomorrow,” I mumbled, seriously not looking forward to dealing with all the hair product that was keeping my dry, frizzy hair held up in this fancy look that both Jessica and Ms. Corrigan had insisted on. “I can’t believe that woman actually sent you a picture of how she wanted my hair done. What a control freak.”
“Hey, this is her business. She started it herself and grew it to be the most successful operation in the whole state. Did you know that she sends girls on planes sometimes to other cities?” Jessica turned back to the mirror. “I want to be one of those girls someday,” she said, turning her head side-to-side, reaching up to move a single hair two inches over to another spot.
I took her hand and pulled her from the makeup counter. “Come on. If I look at either of us in this mirror any longer I’m going to have a very hard time not grabbing a pen and drawing fake warts and mustaches on our faces.”
Jessica laughed. “Why on earth would you want to ruin perfection like that?” She grabbed her purse off the front table as she walked into our tiny foyer. “These faces are going to be our tickets.”
“Tickets?” I asked. “Tickets to what? A life of glamour and prostitution?”
She slapped my arm. “No, stupid. We’re not prostitutes. I told you, we don’t have sex with the party people. We just stand around and look pretty, make conversation, and flirt. That’s it.”
We walked out the front door together and I stood by while she locked out door. “Oh yeah? What about that guy … Bill or whatever?”
“He was a voluntary fuck, so it’s not prostitution. I got paid regardless.”
A shocked laugh flew out of my mouth. “Voluntary fuck? Is that an industry term I should know?”
“Come on, stop goofing around,” she said, going down the stairs to our shared car. It was really hers, but she let me take it whenever I wanted, which I did when it was raining. My scooter was awesome on gas, but not so awesome on keeping me dry during storms.
“What if someone propositions me?” I asked, getting worried about voluntary fucks and involuntary fucks. Is there a difference?
“It’s just like a regular party. If you see a guy you like and he asks you out, you can say yes or no. It’s very simple.”
“I guess I don’t get why they even hire us if it’s just a regular party.”
Jessica’s Mini-Cooper could fit just about anywhere, which was lucky since we were currently parked next to an SUV that was taking one-and-a-half spaces for itself. She sighed heavily as she backed out. “I’ve told you before … sometimes we get assigned parties and other times we get assigned individuals. It just depends on what the client wants. Tonight it’s some kind of fund-raiser and they wanted some eye candy around. That’s us.”
“And the fact that you’ve slept with half your clients doesn’t equate to prostitution in your mind.”
Jessica shot me a dirty look. “If you call me a hooker one more time I’m going to pinch your boob super hard.”
I put my hands over my chest for protection. “I’m not calling you a hooker. I’m just trying to get this all straight in my head … justify what I’m doing, I guess.” I thought about the professor I had for my Tuesday econ class. I’d put the damn course off for the whole four years, avoiding it because I had such a hard time grasping the concepts of the required course. And now that I’d laid eyes on him and his wavy hair and horn-rimmed glasses, I couldn’t decide if the class would be easier because I was mooning over his incredibly hot face and body while trying to impress him with my intelligence, or harder because it would be impossible to concentrate during his lectures. He was unfortunately one of those professors who felt like he should teach the classes personally instead of using grad students to do it. Ugh. Hot and dedicated. Somebody shoot me.
“One last time, I’ll explain for you with the short attention span and zero memory. You get paid to show up and do the job of being an attentive date. That’s all. When the evening is over at the designated time, you are on your own time. If you decide to fuck during that period, it’s all you. And if the guy pays you a little extra for that fuck, you can either consider it a tip -which believe me, a lot of guys give even if you don’t fuck- or you can get all negative and down on a fun job that pays a lot of money and call yourself a prostitute. I, personally, call myself a modern woman, making money to support herself and her dreams of being a business owner someday. I’m not breaking any laws or hurting anyone, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s all good.” She looked over at me. “Okay? Do you understand?”
I nodded my head, my lips pursed.
“Say it. I know you’re thinking something, so just say it.”
I shook my head silently, keeping my thoughts to myself. Call it what you like, but when a guy pays you after or before sex, it’s being a hooker. And I will not be a hooker, no matter how much money some guy offers me. I thought about one of my favorite all-time movies, where the guy hires a hooker and pays her for the week. I was a total sucker for a Cinderella story, even if it involved ladies of the night. I wondered if it had been
me in that story, if I would have taken the money.
“Okay, keep your opinions to yourself then. I don’t want to hear them if they’re mean anyway.”
“Come on, Jess, I’m not being mean. I’m just … nervous.”
“Jesus, Rose, what is there to be nervous about? We’re just going to a party! We’re going to stand around, drink a single glass of wine -you know that’s all they allow- eat some appetizers, chat up some old men, and flirt with the waiters. What could possibly go wrong?”
“What if someone wants to have sex with me?”
She laughed. “Trust me … you’re so uptight, you might as well be wearing a sign that says STAY AWAY in neon lights. It couldn’t be more effective at keeping men at bay.”
I frowned, not sure whether I should be happy about that or not. It felt like an insult, but part of me was glad that I had an invisible go-away sign on. I guess if I’m sending off those vibes, I don’t have to worry about the sex thing. Which means I won’t have to think about being a hooker. I smiled, happy with the idea that I could be making a hundred bucks an hour to go to a fancy, catered party with my best friend.
“That’s the spirit,” said Jessica, grinning over at me. “An actual smile. And imagine … your face didn’t even crack!”
“Shut up, hooker,” I said, laughing when Jessica screeched her outrage. “Just don’t let me get trapped with someone, okay? If someone tries to, like, I don’t know … smother me, you promise you’ll come get me, right?”
“Yes. Absolutely. That’s why they always send us in groups to big parties like this. Safety in numbers. I’ll watch your back, you watch mine.”
A flicker of fear entered my mind, making me feel a little queasy. “Safety? As in, there’s danger?”
Jessica pulled up to a huge mansion-like house that had a valet guy in front. She put the car in park and turned to face me. “No, there’s no danger. Look at this house, would you?” she said, gesturing towards the huge columns that stood outside my window. “What could possibly be dangerous about a party in a palace like this?”