Masters for Hire

by Ginger Voight

  “I can’t tell you how frustrating it is for me to find clothes that actually make me feel good. You know as well as I do that’s what fashion boils down to. We have to feel beautiful and special in our own personal style. My store currently doesn’t market to women like me, or like you. We have a few token extended sizes, but mostly for our older clientele. Girls like us are forced to shop specialty boutiques to find anything fun or sexy. And I’m tired of watching them make the money Cabot’s could be making. There’s a market for this. And I want you to help me corner it.”

  Darcy shook her head. “I don’t know. Things are really hectic right now. I really don’t see how I’ll have any spare time for the foreseeable future.”

  “I’m willing to pay,” I told her. Since it worked for her brother, I assumed it would work for her. “With my initial investment, you could hire a staff and take some of the burden off of your shoulders.”

  “It’s not that,” Darcy insisted.

  “Then what is it?”

  Her eyes met mine. “Devlin didn’t tell you?”

  My heart stopped. “Tell me what?”

  She shook her head. “You know what? It’s not important. I do appreciate the offer, Coralie, but really, I just don’t think I can fit it in right now. A startup business takes more than capital, it takes time. It takes focus. And I’m stretched pretty thin on both of those. But I’ll be more than happy to fix this dress. On the house.”

  “No, please,” Lucy interjected. “You’re doing me a huge favor. Let me compensate you at least.”

  Darcy smiled. “It’s a few stitches,” she said. “Honestly, I’d feel guilty taking your money for that.”

  By the time we left Darcy’s apartment, we had more questions than answers. Neither of us could figure out why someone who was so clearly struggling wouldn’t accept a hand up out of her situation. “You weren’t kidding,” Lucy told me. “She really is different from her brother.”

  And I knew she didn’t just mean appearances.

  The boys were in good spirits when they returned from the golf course, particularly Devlin. I felt immediately guilty for going behind his back in regards to Darcy. In my version of events, she would have accepted my generous offer and turned into a huge success, so that Devlin wouldn’t be irked by an invasion on his personal, “real” life.

  Now it just felt like I was being sneaky and manipulative, and that seemed so wrong given the current perimeters of our relationship. Like Lucy said, I was just his customer at the moment. Though we played our parts to a T, we weren’t really even friends. I paid him money, he provided a service. That was it.

  The lines blurred even more when he whisked me up to our hotel suite for a little afternoon delight. We ended up soaking in the whirlpool bath, with me straddling his hips while we fed each other strawberries and drank champagne.

  I was far drunker on the taste of his supple mouth, which I kissed repeatedly just because I could.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close. “So what did you and Lucy do today?”

  I shrugged. I knew better than to say. “Just relaxed, mostly. Deidre, the wedding planner, is handling everything, so she basically shooed us away so she could work her magic.”

  He grinned. “Awesome. Less time for Lucy means more time for me.” My insides melted into goo as he kissed me.

  I wrapped my arms around him. “You really shouldn’t say such things, Mr. Masters. You may turn yourself into a really hard habit to break.”

  “That’s the idea,” he murmured before he kissed me again, this time harder.

  We met Gus and Lucy for early dinner, before heading downtown to watch the LED light show under the 1,500-foot long canopy hanging ninety feet above Fremont Street, where Lucy talked us all into riding a zip line. We stayed downtown most of the evening, eating $0.99 shrimp cocktails, listening to live music and trying our luck in several of the casinos, including one that still accepted and dispensed coins. Lucy was beside herself.

  Now that the stress of the wedding belonged solely to someone else, she was able to let loose and have some fun. She wanted to sample a little bit of everything along Fremont Street. I hopped off her bandwagon when she decided to order a shot of alcohol with an actual scorpion in it.

  “Seriously, Lucy? Do you really want to risk your life this close to your perfect day by ingesting a poisonous bug?” I asked, making a face.

  Devlin chuckled. “Scorpions aren’t poisonous, they’re venomous. They have to sting you to do real damage, and these bad boys aren’t stinging anyone anymore,” he said as he motioned for two shots.

  I shuddered anyway. “Yeah, no thanks.”

  “No stomach to try a delicacy?” he teased.

  “Not even a little bit,” I assured him. Yet strangely, knowing he was willing to do so only made him more exciting to me.

  Clearly I had gone over to the dark side.

  “And how do you know so much about scorpions, mister?” Lucy asked him.

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say the subject has always fascinated me. People are so scared of them, but really, they’re mostly misunderstood. Plus, I’m a Scorpio,” he added, which suddenly explained why he had a sexy tribal scorpion tattoo trailing across his lower abdomen, heading towards exciting places south of his waistband.

  Lucy, who had already gone through her astrology phase, chuckled. “That explains so much. It also gives me an idea.”

  “Should I be scared?” he asked her as the bartender placed two scorpion shots in front of them.

  “Always,” she grinned. They toasted with their drinks. I had to give Lucy credit. She didn’t even hesitate as she threw back that shot, swallowing the scorpion whole with nothing more than a cough or two to choke it down.

  Devlin, on the other hand, drained the shot but kept the scorpion between his teeth, laying it out on his impressive tongue before he chewed it like it was a mouthful of caviar. Our gaze never wavered and that smirk never faltered. He kept me close to him though I squirmed and shook my head when he reached for a kiss.

  “Eww, no!” I giggled as I turned away.

  “Come on,” he encouraged with that damnable smirk. “A dangerous kiss for a dangerous girl.”

  “You’re dangerous,” I corrected.

  Those eyes entrapped me once more. “And that’s what you love most about me.”

  Again I shivered hard, but it had nothing to do with a creepy little bug.

  She ended up dragging us all to a two-story adult superstore with everything from videos and toys to lingerie and fetish equipment. It was the kind of place where Lucy would force me to go when we were younger, to propel me out of my comfort zone. Like I needed any help at all with that now. I pulled Lucy towards me the second we walked through the doors. “Are you crazy?!”

  “Get your money’s worth, I always say,” she shrugged. “Scorpios are freaks. Who better to take my beautiful vanilla friend and add a few sprinkles?”

  Devlin pulled me by the hand so we could browse the titillating inventory. “What’s the matter?” he teased with a grin of his own. “Never been in an adult toy store before?”

  I rewarded him with a side-eye glare. “You’ve met my best friend. What do you think?”

  He chuckled. “So what’s the problem?”

  I glanced around at the crowd milling in the store, unabashed. “I prefer to shop for my personal toys online. You know, away from people.”

  His eyes sparkled with mischief as he stared down at me. “Why? Afraid everyone will think you like sex? Newsflash, darlin.’ Everybody does. We’re all freaks deep down.” He picked up a package with the biggest, most intimidating realistic dildo I had ever seen. He raised his voice to say, “What do you think, honey? I know it’s a little smaller than Big George, but they do say variety is the spice of life.”

  I slapped his arm with my hand. It was just what Lucy would, and has, done. “Not you too!”

  He laughed as he placed the toy back on the shelf. “Three days
with me and you haven’t loosened up yet? What am I going to do with you, Coralie?” He picked up yet another toy, inspected it closely before he turned to inspect me much the same way.

  It made me shudder in spite of myself.

  “You know what you like. You know what you need. Take it. No shame, no apology.” Again he put the toy back on the shelf and moved further along the line.

  I grabbed a strap-on and held it up, before giving him the same up-and-down inspection. “You have a point.” A little louder, I said, “Is this the one you said you wanted for your birthday, sweetie?”

  He laughed as he pulled me closer. “Now you’re getting it.” He took the toy from my hand and put it back on the shelf. “But you’re not getting that.”

  I giggled. “Let me guess. It’s against your rules.”

  “It’s a small list, but it’s non-negotiable,” he informed with a wink.

  This little foray into the adult superstore did afford us an opportunity to get to know each other better, so I decided to pounce on it. “So what kinds of things do you like?”

  He shrugged. “I’m more of a ‘if it feels good, do it,’ kind of a guy. Up for mostly anything all the time. You know that.”

  I sighed. “Yes, I know that you can adapt to other people. But what do you like? What constitutes Devlin Masters’ perfect night?”

  He pulled me close and planted a kiss on my lips. “Any night spent with you, beautiful.”

  I practically rolled my eyes right out of my head. “Devlin.”

  “I take life as it comes, Coralie. I make it fun in the moment. That’s all any of us can do.”

  “You’re really not going to give an inch, are you?”

  “What do you want me to say?” he countered.

  “Most people haven’t had the kinds of experiences you’ve had,” I started, which made him immediately take a step apart and turn away. “So what kinds of things did you like? What kinds of things did you hate? Is there anything left you haven’t done?”

  “My business isn’t about my fantasy,” he said in a low, clipped voice. “It’s about yours.” He distracted himself with yet another box. “What kinds of things haven’t you done that you want to?”

  I gulped back my increasing frustration. Now he was deflecting questions with more questions. It was yet another reminder I was a paying customer and he was my living sex toy. “What if I told you that I wanted to dominate you? Buy whips and chains and crops and cock cages, and just beat and humiliate you till you begged for mercy?”

  He regarded me with one arched eyebrow. “Okay, a little troubled that you know what a cock cage is.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. If that’s what would make you happy, then that’s what we would do. Within reason,” he added. “But that isn’t your kink.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Really,” he confirmed with a nod.

  “And what do you think my ‘kink’ is?”

  He turned back to face me, looming over me with a darkening gaze. “You have spent years of your life taking care of everyone else. You took care of your dad after your mom died, and you took care of Lucy in college. You take care of your house, your business, and your friends. Hell, you probably even take care of Oliver.” He leaned closer and his voice dropped. “I’d bet $25,000 that he gets his way all the time. He picks the restaurants, he decides the length and duration of the date, and if there is any fooling around at the end of it, it has more to do with his sexual needs and desires than yours. I bet,” he added as he bent even closer with a gaze that penetrated me to my very core, “he has never even made you come.”

  I gasped out loud. I couldn’t help it.

  He had backed me against one of the shelves, so he put one hand on either side of me, holding me captive as he continued. “Meanwhile you just smile and nod and agree to everything, putting your needs and wants dead last to make everyone else happy. You always settle on what you want to make everyone else comfortable. You probably went to the school your father wanted you to go to, his alma mater–a family tradition no doubt–and I’d bet my car you earned your way there on merit rather than the family name just to make going there a little more palpable. In fact, I’d bet you’ve worked your ass off your entire life to earn your family name as well, which is as ill-fitting as their clothes. You do what they expect you to do, some perfect, one-dimensional paper doll. You wear yourself out constantly being all things to all people. Inside, though, you’re completely miserable, hoping someone somewhere will hear all your silent screams.”

  I gasped again as I backed up a step, knocking down a couple of things on the shelves behind me. That he could easily read all that after such a short time together floored me.

  “Newsflash, baby. I heard you screaming from our first conversation on the phone. Why do you think I wanted you to get the dress you wanted? Why do you think I want to give you the week you wanted? Someone somewhere has to think about you, and that is your fantasy. You want someone to meet every last need, cross off every last detail, and take care of you for a change.” He closed the small gap between us to cup my face in his hand. “And you want to complicate all that by figuring out how to take care of me? Silly girl.”

  I cursed the tear that hovered in the corner of my eye. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to do anything for me, Coralie. For this one week, my only fantasy is taking care of you.” He bent for yet another kiss.

  I know he said those things to make me feel better, but all it did was remind me that there was a time limit on this little social experiment.

  #TickTock

  He was right. I wanted someone to put me first for a change. I was tired of playing the plucky costar in everyone else’s movie. I wanted to be the one who drew the crowd. I wanted a prince to search the land for me, to fit me with the crystal slipper that only I could wear. I wanted to be the one who crossed the finish line, won the prize, or had songs and poems written about me. I wanted to be the one someone thought of first thing in the morning, and the last thing before bed. I wanted someone who couldn’t wait to hold me simply because he smelled my perfume on his clothes, or heard ‘our song’ on the radio.

  The only difference was that I wanted all that for more than one week. And I didn’t want to have to buy it.

  It was like finding the perfect dress all over again.

  When we headed back to the hotel, I had a bag full of goodies that Devlin had picked out at the superstore, but my heart wasn’t in it. I knew that we’d spend the night chasing one mind-blowing orgasm after the other, but that didn’t change the fact that the sands in the hourglass were still falling.

  I only had four more nights with Devlin Masters. And I knew that was never going to be enough.

  Too bad for me it would only take a few hours before I knew that Devlin wasn’t able to say the same.

  #FML

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Is that a fact?”

  My eyes peeled open against the sliver of bright light coming from the tightly drawn blackout drapes in our hotel room. I could hear Devlin speaking to someone on his phone, his voice low and angry, which had ultimately stirred me from my contented slumber.

  When I glanced up at his face, I realized he was glaring at me. I gulped as I scooted up into a seated position.

  “Yeah. I understand. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He promptly disconnected the call and tossed his phone onto the nightstand. “That was Darcy. She says your dress will be ready tonight.”

  “Oh,” I said, as I shrank away from the anger in his face. “Great.”

  “She also tells me that you went over to her house yesterday, to pitch her some grand scheme of selling her clothes at Cabot’s.”

  That was it. I was busted. I gulped hard as I stared at him. “I did.”

  His mouth clenched into a line. “And you didn’t think to tell me about it? Or ask me first?” he added angrily as he thre
w off the blankets and hopped out of bed and into his underwear, which we had casually discarded the night before.

  Our newly initiated sex toys still sat on the nightstand, next to three empty condom wrappers.

  “I’m sorry. I should have,” I started, but he cut me off.

  “You’re goddamned well right you should have! What were you thinking, Coralie? They don’t know what I do for a living, and you want to just waltz over there like some pimping fairy godmother?”

  “They?” I repeated. He realized his error with a growl.

  “I told you. I don’t mix my business with my personal life. It’s an iron-clad rule, Coralie. And you broke it.” He started to dress, which scared me.

  “So… what? That’s it?”

  He fastened his pants and reached for a shirt. “You’re fucking right it is. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get a refund for the rest of the week,” he sneered.

  “Fuck you!” I exploded before jumping out of the bed myself.

  “No, fuck you, Coralie. What is it with you rich people? Just because you can rent me doesn’t mean you own me. You had no right to go over there. No right!”

  “I get that!” I screamed back as I scrambled for my own clothes. “But I was just trying to help.”

  He swung on me with a murderous look in his eyes. “We don’t need your help.”

  I tried a softer approach. “Look. Your sister is really talented. And I think that she could do some amazing things in the fashion industry. She just needs a shot.”

  He scoffed. “And Cabot’s is supposed to be that shot? You can’t even buy your own clothes there, and you own the joint.”

  “Exactly! Why do you think it’s so important to me?”

  He softened a bit, but then shook his head. “Your father will never give my sister a shot. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even give you a job if you weren’t related.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “And I can’t make any promises to Darcy. I could try like hell to sell my idea to Father, but ultimately he decides what stays or goes. But it’s a chance. She deserves it. And I deserve it. It has nothing to do with you, or us, or our arrangement.” Another lie, but necessary. “I didn’t tell her anything, Devlin. Nor would I.”