Escort (The Callie Leveaux Series) (2 page)

The Damaged

Right now, y
ou’re probably wondering what the hell happened to me.

Was I abused as a child? Not loved enough? Allow me to put your troubled mind at ease.

Nothing traumatic happened to me.

I had a perfectly normal childhood, my parents love
d me. In fact, they still do.

I never had my heart broken, never had the shit kicked out of me by the love of my life.

I’m not finding myself sexually, nothing like that.

I just look at sex a little,
okay maybe a lot
, different than most.

When I enrolled in college, I
was bright eyed and bushy tailed just like you.

Yep
, just like you.

My major was psychology and after a few courses, I began to see a pattern. You want to know what that pattern
was? That it doesn’t matter who you are, what you’re into or where you came from, we’ve all got demons. The only difference between you and the creepy guy across the way from you is that sometimes, the demons keep him awake at night while yours stay tucked underneath your bed, hiding and waiting.

The other half of this equation?
We’ve all got a vice. Drugs, alcohol, working out, eating, cigarettes and yes, sometimes sex. There’s always something.

With sex, sure, most
people can get what they need from their partner, but where does that leave the others? And what about the people out there who are into the shit that falls a little, or sometimes
a lot
, outside the box?

The world can be a scary place for a lot of people and sometimes they need a release.
The release can come in many forms. Sometimes it can be verbal, sometimes artistic, sometimes they just need a good cry and sometimes it’s sexual. Sure they can seek treatment, but let’s face it. Lying on a couch talking about your feelings only gets you so far.

Sometimes you
just need to fuck it out of your system.

That’s where I come in.

I wanted to change the world. I wanted to make a difference and so that’s what I do.

E
very night.

I don’t care what
kind of freaky shit you’re into. You can fuck me like a porn star. I’ll be whatever you need me to be. I’ll let you work all your worst demons out on me and I’ll never judge you. It’s just going to cost you a shitload of money to do it.

You might think this is a fucked up occupation for a girl to have. To your own credit, in a l
ot of ways you’d be right. Like it or not though, what I do helps people.

My clients are regular people, the same as you, just looking f
or a way to fix their shit, relieve their stress and get back to their lives without being judged.

Ju
st like every session, I’d checked in early and set everything up. Everything he needs is already waiting for him on the dresser when he walks in the door and he doesn’t delay in making his selection. He’s going to use it all, this I already know as well. This is part of the service I offer my clients, anonymity and convenience all rolled up into one kinky, disturbing little package.

My
list of hard limits is the shortest in the business. I supply it all, all they have to do is show up, bring me my money and a clean bill of health from the doctor of my choosing and I do the rest.

After shooting the good doctor a text to let him know I’m finished, I step into the shower and w
ash myself clean of the past nine hours. The antibacterial soap I placed in here before my session with Dante stings against my skin as I rub the soft loofah over myself with care. Patting myself dry, I throw on the pale pink yoga pants and pull the white racer back over my chest, not bothering with a bra or panties. 

I begin cleaning and packing up everything from
the bed and dresser. Tossing them into my work bag one at a time, I take inventory of everything, making a mental list of what I need to grab before next month. As I’m placing the last of it into the bag, I hear the electronic key buzz on the door, telling me Tommy is here to pick me up.

“Hey babe,” he says absentmindedly as he pushes the door shut behind him.
“You about ready?”

“Yeah,” I say, giving him a small smile before leaning up t
o kiss him chastely on his full lips. Running my eyes over him, I see he’s had another sleepless night. “You gotta start sleeping, Tommy. You’re gonna make yourself sick, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving me off. “Everything go alright?”

“Yep,” I nod, zipping my bag up and walking over to the chair to throw on my Nike’s. “Dante says what’s up.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I saw him in the lot on my way up and we talked for a sec.”

“How fast did you drive here?”

“I got her
e about an hour before you sent your text,” he admits. “Couldn’t sleep and there isn‘t shit to do at the apartment so I drove over early.”

“
I thought you had plans with that Miri girl?”

“Nah,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I sent her packing. She wants shit I can’t give her. Not fair to lead her on, so I ended it.”

“Sorry Tommy.”

Shrugging his shoulders at me, he shoots me a wink and a look that I know is all for my benefit. He’s hurting. He knows it, I know it and he knows I know it.

“No biggie, Cal. Now I have more time to hang out with my number one girl.”

Rolling my
eyes at him, I watch as he stands in front of me, pulling me up from my seat and holding my pink hoodie open for me. Slipping my arms into it, slowly, carefully, I wince a little when he pulls my hair free from beneath the fabric. As he releases it, letting it fall over my shoulders, he notices the mark forming on my neck from the chain and touches it with a slight hiss escaping his lips.

“Fuck, Callie!”

“It’s fine,” I tell him with a yawn, waving off his concern. “It looks a lot worse than it is.”

“Let me look at it, babe,” he says, turning me carefully in his arms. As he takes stock of my in
juries, I rest my hands on his sides as he murmurs some medical mumbo jumbo under his breath mixed with profanity. “Contusion… fucking damn near ecchymosis…”

“Come on, Tommy,” I roll my eyes
impatiently. “I’ve had
way
worse than this.”

“Yeah,” he says, meeting my gaz
e with a severe look. “Don’t fucking remind me, Callie. Is this all of it?”

Hesitantly, I begin shaking my head at him.
I give him a small smirk, grateful for his love and concern, but annoyed to hell that I’m still standing in this hotel room.

I could be at home sleeping right now. There’s a bowl of Fruity Pebbles with my name on it less than
fifteen minutes away.    

“You know it isn’t, Tommy,” I tell him quietly.

“Ugh!” he spews with irritation. “Let me see.”

“No!” I tell him,
attempting to push his tall, muscular frame away from me, but without much success.

“Let me fucking see, Callie!”

“Tommy! I want to go home!”

“Come on!” he prods, grabbing my elbow when I try to push past him.

My eyes find his full of concern and a little irritation at my insubordination. I know he’s only watching out for me, but tonight was mild and we both know it. He’s just being a stubborn pain in my ass.

“
Tommy,” I start, holding his blue eyes. “You know how you feel when you’re about to leave the office and you get that call asking if you’ve got time for a few questions about the new script you just wrote them? You know it will only take a few minutes, but all you really want to do is go have a beer and watch some T.V.?”

“Yeah,” he starts with a gentle smirk, knowing immediately where I’m going with this.

“I. Wanna. Go. Home. Tommy!” I ground out with a snicker, childishly stamping my foot. “You can strip me down and look me over there. I’m starving and I’m sick of being at the office!”

“Fine,” he relents
with a small smile, brushing his thumb across my cheek before letting me go. “Do you swear you’re alright, Cal?”

“I swear it, Tommy,” I tell him in a soft voice, my gratefulness to him surfacing for the tenth time today.

“Alright,” he says with a loud sigh. “Let’s get you home then, brat.”

As I make my way to the door, I reach for my bag before noticing he’s already slung it over his shoulder.
Throwing me a wink, he holds the door open for me, waiting patiently as I duck beneath his muscle bound arm and step out into the hall.

We’re less than
halfway to the elevator before he reaches down and takes my hand, running the pad of his thumb over the top of my hand affectionately.

While Tommy’s always been the more affectionate of us since our stran
ge friendship began years ago, his behavior tonight is exceeding his usual. His night must have been much worse than he’s admitted to me, but I won’t push him to talk to me about it. If he wants to talk, he will.

“You
okay?” I say, finding his blue eyes already focused on me.

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh.
“Just tired.”

Wrapping my arms around h
is waist, I hug him closer to my side. His hand instinctively goes to my still damp hair, stroking gently before coming to a rest on my lower back.

As the elevator dings its arrival, I pull away from him and place my hand back in his, pulling him with me into the space. Pressing the button that will take us to the lobby, I push out a deep breath and lean my exhausted frame against the railing as we descend.

Stepping out of the elevator, I head to the front counter to talk to Claire at reception. As I wait for her to secure that nobody else would be using my usual room, Tommy stands directly behind me, gently massaging my aching muscles. His attention pulls a low groan from me and I lean back against his hard chest, loving the feel of his lips grazing my temple, his fingertips flitting over my arms. He runs his palms over my flat stomach, playing with the drawstring of my pants and burying his nose into my hair as Claire finishes up.

Once things are settled at reception,
Tommy takes my hand and we make our way out to his silver Audi. Opening my door for me, he tosses my bag in the backseat and climbs into his seat. As the low rumble of the engine vibrates through us, he releases a deep breath and slips his dark sunglasses on over his exhausted eyes.

Thank God it’s Saturday, maybe he’ll
actually get some sleep
.

I fiddle with the radio station until I fall on something that will relax us both and rest back against the seat with a sigh. As I shut my eyes and try to let the music consume my thoughts, I feel Tommy rest his hand on the console between us and I instinctively take it into mine. Lifting it to his lips, he squeezes my hand gently as he replaces our interlocked fingers to their place on the spot between us.

“So what kind of fucked up shit did Dante do to you this time?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,”
I confess as I pull my feet into the seat and begin to trace the lines in his palm with my fingertip. “Typical shit for him.”

I give him a rundown of what happened, leaving out nothing and pretending not to hear his breathing hitch when I hit certain parts. Tommy is the only one who knows anything about what I do.
I tell him everything about my life and my work is no exception. I know he’d never tell a soul, not just out of respect for the privacy of my clients, but because of his love for me.

“I can’t believe people are into that shit, Cal. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m no boy scout. You know better than anyone that I’m always down for a little kink,” he smirks. “But some of the shit these guys do to you really freaks me out, babe.”

“Why does it freak you out?”

Considering my question as he pulls up to the red light, he glances over at me before answering.
I don’t miss the way his eyes dance over me, but I don’t question it either. This is just how it’s always been between us.

“Because they’re
doing it to you, Callie,” he admits softly. “I don’t like the idea of any sleazebag having his way with you, but I can never shake the fear that one of them is gonna go too far one night and that text will never come.” He shakes his head, releasing himself from the dark thought. “I get why you do what you do. Most people wouldn’t, but I do. You’re helping people work through their shit and I get it,” he tells me. “I just hate the fact that they have to hurt you to do it.”

Watching him
as he accelerates through the green light, I study his roman features admiring his raw, masculine beauty. His light brown hair is cut short everywhere but on top where it comes up in soft waves less than two inches long.

His blue
eyes are accompanied by full lips and a strong, square jaw. His forehead crinkles with worry as he glances back down at the bruising on my neck as he pulls into his spot at our apartment complex.