by Larkin Rose
It was that first job, in a tiny cubicle of an office with long desks and multiple telephones where she’d met Amelia, her only true friend, then and now. She could well imagine what she looked like—like a lost soul, hungry and desperate. Six months later, she was able to afford a rank little apartment with no heating or cooling. It was a roof over her head, and for that, she was grateful. Amelia had ducked out of that line of work after a couple of years, begging Jodi to take flight with her. Something had told Jodi to stay. She was good at her job, at pleasing the clients. Somehow, she knew exactly what they yearned for. What they wanted, she had. Soon, women requested her by name. The calls rushed in, all wanting her sexy mixed accent and cool manners to rip away their composure for a few minutes.
Now, here she sat, some twenty years later, Amelia still the most important person in her life. Jodi lived in a beautiful city, very similar to the one Eve looked out on every day of her life, and she owned the entire fifteen-story condo building in which she had her apartment plus a fat bank account to ensure she’d never go hungry again.
“You’re fucking me…God, fucking me so hard, so deep. Fuck me, Lexi. Please. Please. Let me fill myself.”
“I like it when you beg. It’s so erotic. Too bad I’m not ready for you to come. And too bad you disobeyed an order.”
Jodi checked the clock on the nightstand. Ten more minutes, tops. Her date wouldn’t be happy if she arrived late. Tonight, she’d be escorting Carlotta Tate down the red carpet, then fucking her before the stroke of midnight.
“I…uh! You’re mean. I’m dying here.”
“Can’t have that now, can we? Let’s see what we can do to remedy your little situation.”
“Lexi! Stop teasing me.”
“Okay, my sweet, spread those lips for me.” Jodi tied her shoe and braced herself. “Slow and easy, enter that delicious pussy. I bet you’re so wet. I can almost feel you clenching around my fingers.”
Eve gave that helpless cry that wove ribbons of heat through Jodi’s crotch. She clenched her jaw against the intensity. The whimpers always awoke something deep inside her, as if Eve held the key to her inner soul.
“Oh, fuck. I’m so close, Lexi.”
Jodi lay back on the bed and focused on the spinning ceiling fan. “Flick your clit. Small circles.”
Eve whimpered.
“That’s it, baby. Faster now. Keep driving that dildo inside. Deep and slow. I bet you look so sexy right now, naked, legs wide, those hardened nipples kissing the air.”
“Keep talking. Shit, I can feel you inside me, Lexi.”
“Yes, that’s me inside you. I’m fucking you. Flick faster, Eve. Let me hear you come.”
Eve’s breathing hitched and Jodi knew she was close. So fucking close.
“Oh, God, Lexi.”
Jodi screwed her eyes shut while prickles of pain seared her pussy. The sound of her name flying off those lips drew her into the intimate moment like a vortex. She caught her hand moving down between her legs. She needed relief. Needed to join Eve so bad it was frightening.
She jerked her hand away just as her fingers curled over her crotch. No attachments! Absolutely no masturbating with a client. It was Rona’s first rule before she’d whisked Jodi out of the life of being a sex phone operator and into the exotic realms of being an escort.
Fuck! She wanted to so damn bad, needed to accompany Eve as she cascaded into the erotic abyss.
“I’m coming. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!”
Jodi fisted her hands against her thighs as Eve whimpered, tortured by those sweet cries.
Chapter Two
Jodi waited for the driver to open her door before she stepped out of the limo. She took in the paparazzi armed with their cameras, clumped in groups outside the golden ropes lining the red carpet. The flashes lit up the night sky as soon as she turned to extend her hand for Carlotta. At the ripe age of fifty-seven, Carlotta, the grande dame of the theater world, had lost none of the grace, sophistication, or style for which she’d become famous. Her air of arrogance kept most people at arm’s length. She liked her life private. Her money paid for just that.
Jodi took her red silk-gloved wrist and escorted Carlotta from the stretch limo. Carlotta’s personal designer, Navarro, had outdone himself for this occasion, producing the most amazing chiffon gown covered with chips of mirrored glass that glinted like a myriad of diamonds in the flashlights. Carlotta pasted her bright public smile firmly in place while Jodi placed a hand at the small of her back and urged her to the edge of the carpet. The prisms danced as the camera flashes sparkled. Jodi held her head high as she looked over Carlotta’s awaiting fans. She never smiled. It kept her expression mysterious, and she liked that.
The actress in front of them moved forward. Slowly, Jodi led her wealthy date onto the red carpet. The crowd shouted, and applause built all around. Shutters hummed ferociously, and then Jodi stepped to the side while the paparazzi beckoned their star to pose for the customary photographs. No doubt the pictures would grace the front covers of every tabloid and newspaper by morning light with their taglines pondering the mysterious date escorting the famous theater director into the limelight. Again. How close they were to the truth. How close they always were. Carlotta had paid handsomely for Jodi’s services, not the first time, and surely not the last. But not just any escort—a paid, personal escort who did more than just walk her dates down the velvet aisle, or waltz the rich around a dance floor for her paycheck. She wasn’t ashamed. Never had been and never would be.
If anything, Jodi was proud of herself for finding another route out of an otherwise shameful life. She could have ended up in the clutches of a violent pimp, dependent on him for the drugs that made her sordid life bearable, or worse, with her throat slashed and her body dumped in an alley before her eighteenth birthday.
Of course, a personal escort was little removed from a paid whore, but no matter how many ways she examined the formula, Jodi couldn’t hang her head in shame. She was alive and living a stylish life. That was far more than she could say about the alternative.
When Carlotta looked her way, the sign that she had given the media enough of her time, Jodi moved back to her side. Carlotta tucked her hand around Jodi’s elbow, and together they moved forward. Jodi never held hands with her dates, no matter how big the paycheck. It was too personal. She saved those precious moments for “real” dates. She rarely had those, but she wasn’t against finding Ms. Right. Deep down, she was a hopeless romantic just waiting for the breath to be knocked from her lungs when true love whisked into her world. That person would come along eventually. This she knew.
The silver screen might be full of fiction, but romance was real. Her mother was proof of that fact. She’d died with a broken heart, had taken her love to the grave, alongside her husband. She’d never gotten over his death. Even moving herself and her only child back to London, her homeland, couldn’t mend the pieces of her shattered life, though she’d tried hard to give Jodi a loving life as a single mother. Jodi could tell things weren’t the same, that they probably never would have been had she not been killed in a car accident. Jodi thought of her often, how they talked of her father. Her mother had never let a day pass without speaking of him, how he loved them both dearly, how she would see him one day and hold his hand again. The memories made her smile. Made her yearn for that same unconditional love her mother and father shared.
With no living relatives, Jodi was forced to start a brand-new life, feeling hopeless and lonely, miserable and sad. She’d dodged a life of foster care by hitting the streets. Truth was the streets seemed safer. She had wide-open spaces to run from the pedophiles who posed squeaky clean on the child protective services paperwork.
Shaking off the depressing memories of her past, Jodi led the way into the crowded foyer of Arcadia. The entertainment complex, situated at the heart of the West End theater district, comprised several luxurious function rooms and cinemas, the perfect setting for this glittering occasion. Carlotta pr
ogressed through the throng like royalty, stopping from time to time to share a word or an air kiss with the lucky few.
They climbed a flight of carpeted steps to enter the lavishly decorated reception room where they were to dine before the private showing of Ultimate Betrayal, Carlotta’s new film, which many in the know tipped as a possible Oscar nominee. Deep red curtains hung from every wall swagged over television screens showing brief clips from the movie and shots of the stars discussing their roles. Jodi led Carlotta to their appointed table right in the center and held out her chair.
Carlotta waved away the offered champagne, ignoring the waiter. “Jodi, darling,” she cooed, “would you mind getting me a large gin and tonic? I can’t abide this weak fizzy stuff.”
Well used to Carlotta’s idiosyncrasies, Jodi patted her hand and smiled at the wine waiter assigned to their table. “Could you rustle up a triple gin and tonic, please?”
Carlotta gave her a nod as the waiter scurried off to carry out the starlet’s wishes.
Jodi took in the scene. Everyone was exchanging light cheek kisses, hugs, and handshakes. She noticed how young most of the women looked, some barely in their thirties. Jodi shifted uneasily in her chair. Her fortieth birthday was right around the corner, two weeks, to be exact. She’d finally given in to Amelia’s pleas to have a gathering of friends and call it a party. There weren’t many people she could call her friend. Being regularly torn from homes she’d barely gotten comfy in kept her from connecting with others, a trait she’d carried even into her adult life. Her chosen career didn’t help. She didn’t need the raised eyebrows and whispers behind her back. What she did with her time was no concern to anyone else. Over the years, she’d learned to keep people at a distance. It was safer that way.
A young woman wearing an elegant black dress with large diamond studs winking from her earlobes passed in front of Jodi. There wasn’t a wrinkle on her flawless skin, not even a faint laughter line around her soft blue eyes. Jodi watched her long after she’d rejoined her group of friends.
Why did youth suddenly bother her? Sure, she was getting older, but she was escorting one of the wealthiest women in the room. Carlotta didn’t seem to mind that Jodi had several years on these women, almost twenty in some cases. Was it her style and personality that kept Carlotta and others just like her requesting her services? Or was it the extra personal care she gave them come night’s end? She sure as hell hadn’t come this far by simply shaking hands.
The question nagged at her, confused her.
She’d never had to worry about her looks.
Why all of a sudden did it matter?
*
Eve rushed along the sidewalk toward her office, skillfully dodging the slower New Yorkers. Late. As usual. Somehow, she was always faster than everyone else, even with the heels of her worn favorite black spiked boots punctuating her tardiness. The poor boots had seen much better days; once thick leather was now so pliable she feared ripping them every time she pulled them on. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to toss them away. They were finally broken in, dammit.
She loosened her scarf, took a sip of Starbucks coffee, and then ripped open a nutrition bar with her teeth.
Her Bluetooth chirped. She bumped the button with the heel of her hand.
“I don’t want bad news, Khandi. I’m having a nonviolent walk this morning. Only one bitch has given me the stink eye when I shoved around her slow ass.” Eve darted around a woman leading an ankle-biter on a leash and got her second glare of the morning. “Okay, make that two.”
“Roger is freaking out. He’s already called this morning cussing about some last-minute change you made in the schedule. Next thing I knew he was laughing like some crazed fool, then he called me names, Eve. Ugly names. He’s evil.”
Eve smiled. Some people tagged her personal assistant and only friend an airhead. Eve considered her to be entertainment in her otherwise hectic life. There wasn’t a dull moment in her presence. She dodged yet another slow walker. “He does not hate you, Khandi. He’s just ornery sometimes.”
“He called me a lint licker.”
Eve coughed and managed not to spew a mouthful of coffee on the businessman traveling about the same speed beside her. “A what?”
“A lint licker. He called me a damn lint licker. What the hell does that even mean?”
“You must have misunderstood him.”
“I most certainly did not misunderstand him. And don’t play all angelic on me. You know he’s evil. That’s why you hired him. To fuck with me and make my life miserable.”
“Yep, you caught me. Totally busted. I only hired the best organizer money could buy to make your day a living hell.” Eve stopped at the intersection and waited for the walk sign. “Are you done exaggerating or was there more news for me?”
“You have a conference call with Shanigan’s at ten sharp, about the new material you ordered. The samples arrived by courier thirty minutes ago. They’re on your desk. Your meeting with Angelica at eleven is still on. She has some new models for you to look over, and your lunch with Oliver has been bumped up to twelve to go over the travel arrangements.” Khandi took a deep breath. “And Francesca expects a call from you about one of the designs sometime today. I’ll be sure to have Roger on line for you as soon as you walk through the doors.”
“Aren’t you the sweetest?”
“Bite me.”
Eve laughed and disconnected the call. Day after day, same setup, same rushed life. Some would have buckled under the stress long before now, but not Eve. She was born to be a get-up-and-go girl, always hustling and always on top of every matter. She couldn’t operate any other way, and her career thrived for that very reason.
Even her employees catered to her every whim. If they couldn’t stop, drop, and roll when she snapped her fingers, she had no use for them. That lack of dedication only meant they were in the wrong line of work. If they had sniffling toddlers at home that needed mommy’s attention, then home was where she sent them, usually for good. She needed fast-paced people and accepted nothing less. Khandi seemed the only exception to that rule; Eve sometimes needed Khandi’s dizzy-headed drama to break up the rigidity of her life.
Today, her anxiety was at a peak. She needed to square away the final plans for the London trip, the finishing plot for fashion week. The event loomed large on the horizon, followed close by Milan and Paris. She needed to snap the final puzzle pieces together before she watched her creations sway down the catwalk. This wasn’t her first fashion show, but it still made her giddy to see her designs evolve into reality, to watch the sales soar. She couldn’t let her guard down this close to show time. Overwhelmed at times, she welcomed the rushed high these events provided.
Eve crossed the busy street and her mind whipped to Lexi, to their phone sex the previous night. Her body was splendidly sore, still tingled in the most sensitive places. Lexi knew how to make a girl feel whole, fulfilled, and utterly satisfied.
She often wondered if Lexi was her real name, though she was positive a sex operator would never use her given name. Why on earth would she? Did she truly have unkempt hair that drove Eve crazy to run her fingers through, or that lickable six-pack tummy Eve dreamed of biting, then licking away the sting? Or those dreamy green eyes into which she could fall, even drown? Eve was positive she’d let those private descriptions of her fantasy woman slip out during one phone call or another and Lexi used them to ratchet up the sexual tension. Eve smirked at her silliness. Of course, she wasn’t any of those wonderful things. But it sure beat the probable truth—that Lexi was some six-hundred-pound slob who spent her time devouring Ding Dongs and cutting her toenails while Eve came apart panting her name.
She shuddered at the thought. As many times as she’d asked herself why the hell she continued the phone sex, there was only one answer. Because Lexi’s voice was volcanic and made her succumb to her wicked dominance, made her lose control willingly with the mere whisper of her name. Dammit, it was the only sexual o
uting she had time for and a hell of a lot safer than reliving dead-end relationships. She just wasn’t meant to have a partner in life, and she was okay with that.
She and Lexi lived worlds apart. She’d never have the chance to prove her theory correct, nor did she have any inclination to. Even the thought of being in the same country, in the very same city, Eve still didn’t wish to meet her. She had the perfect elusive fantasy every time she dialed that memorized number. Besides, if the world didn’t know she’d had phone sex with a beached whale, she’d know, and that was harmful enough.
As promised, Khandi had Roger waiting on the phone when Eve stepped into the office. She looped her scarf and coat on the rack by the front door while Khandi grinned. Today Khandi wore a tight black skirt and frilly silk blouse, and that smirk only added a luminous glow to her shiny lip gloss.
“Line one,” she cooed from her perch behind the computer.
Eve blew her a kiss and disappeared into the office.
She dropped into the desk chair and answered the call. “Hi, Roger. I hear you’re having problems this morning?”