Masked Definitions (2 page)

The door is closed, as I knew it would be. Shade, the large security guard assigned to this floor, gives me a small nod of acknowledgement before looking back to the numerous screens that show a downward view of each room. There are two other guards leaning against the walls farther down the dimly lit hallway. Though there is very rarely an incident, security is a must. The men aren’t allowed to touch. They touch, it ruins the suspense.

We are their forbidden fruit; if they take a bite, it’s not as whole as it was when dangling from the tree, or in this case, from the pole.

It is imperative that the men do not touch. Touching loses business. They come back because they love the tease, not because they love the taste.

As Rick says, all pussy tastes the same but none of it looks the same. Whatever that means.

I open the door to the suite and step into the darkened room. I give my eyes a moment to adjust to the red light. I still have yet to automatically adjust to it like the other girls said I would. It has been three months.

“Well, aren’t you exquisite?” A heavy yet posh cut-glass Queen’s English accent sounds in the darkened room.

I don’t falter in my routine.

“And I have yet to see an inch of flesh.” His voice is deep, alluring. I find it attractive. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt like this over a voice and it won’t be the last. “Show me your body.”

Demanding, isn’t he?

I turn to face the mirrored room. Each wall is covered with reflective glass to give the client the best view of his ‘money.’

“Are you hard of hearing?” He snaps, sounding impatient as I finally see him sitting in what can only be described as a throne. All men pick that choice when in this room. It has a seven foot high back, a seat pad of cushioned velvet, arms of hand carved wood, as thick as my thigh, and the legs are made of gold. Yes, real gold. It’s an odd sight but I won’t deny that seeing a man sat in that chair, as I bare my body to him, gets me excited.

I blow out a breath and prepare my ‘show’ voice. Because that’s what this is to me. A show. Nothing more.

“Girl.”

“Do I look like a
girl
to you?” I ask brazenly, my voice husky, sultry and low as I stop before him just out of reach. My sternum is level with his head. He must be tall. Taller than most.

“I have yet to see you behind that lovely lace gown you’re wearing. I’ll judge you then, if it would please you.” He leans forward in his seat, giving me a better view of his face.

For a long moment I’m startled. He’s handsome and so much younger than my usual clients. He can’t be over thirty-three.

His dark hair casts a coppery glow in the red light, though I have no doubt that in the sun it would be jet black. It has been smoothed back and just slightly curls around the back of his ears. The front frames his face like the top of a love heart, the ends coming to rest against chiselled cheekbones.

It’s his eyes that capture me the most. They’re so light. In this darkness I cannot tell if they’re an icy, steely grey, or a blue, or a green. I just know that if I stare into them for too long he may pull my soul from my body and hold it captive forever.

“Get on with it, then.” He snaps, and his interested eyes become quickly doused and look away. “I don’t have all evening.”

“Yet you booked me for the entirety of it.” I state and bring my hands to the top of my gown.

“I like the way you speak. It’s very cultured. Are you high-born?”

I almost laugh but my character remains strong and seductive. “Questions cost.”

“I have money.”

“I have no doubt.” I pull the cord that is tied around my neck, which releases the fabric, allowing it to spill open as I bend forward, keeping my tight, toned rear in the air as I go eye to eye with the man I’m about to own. He smells delicious, like vanilla and leather. “But questions don’t cost money.”

“No?” He quirks a brow and strokes the lace that is draping over his leg. Then his eyes come back to mine before I dip my face into his neck and blow the slightest breath along his jaw from his ear to his chin. I hear him gulp. “What do they cost?”

“My time.” I pull back, allowing him to stare at my mouth through the lace long enough to notice my smirk.

“Is that not the same thing?”

I smile fully and run the tips over my fingers over the backs of his hands, ever so gently. “Perhaps.”

“How old are you?” His hand comes up to loosen his tie. He’s not the first man to arrive here in a suit. In the same way that my mask is my armour, I’d say their suit is theirs. I have this theory that when they don the suit they remain the ever astute business man, but when they take it off they can relieve themselves of their ruthlessness and selfishness.

“How old do you want me to be?” The gown falls open completely, revealing the black lace wrap that I’ve rolled around my body. From knee to arms I’m covered in translucent fabric, almost like a lace bandage.

“Twenty-seven,” he states, guessing wrong but luckily not too wrong. I’m twenty-five in August.

“Good guess,” I lie and begin to sway my hips to the very faint classical piece that plays in the background. I wonder briefly if Beethoven knew that one day a whore would be dancing to his music in the presence of a Duke. Would it have excited him if he did? “And what am I to you?” My hands flip away the gown and wander freely over my body. One would think that after repeating this mantra every night, I’d get tired of touching myself, that I’d become used to it. It would be an inaccurate thought. I don’t ever touch myself without pleasing myself. My body isn’t just for these men to enjoy, it is for me to enjoy. If I’m going to degrade my existence for money, I want to enjoy every single second of it.

“That’s the thrill of this, isn’t it?” He asks, his voice hoarse, and I’m glad to hear that I’m affecting him as I stroke my lace-clad body. “Two strangers… coming together.”

“Definitely.”

“I feel as though I know you from somewhere,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I can’t decide if this diminishes the thrill or makes it more so.”

I lose the gown completely, exposing myself to a slight chill in the air. They keep the aircon pumping slightly lower than normal; I’m certain it’s to keep the nipples nice and hardened. Not that I find that necessary. The way the lace rubs against my body has my rosebud nipples pebbling like diamonds. I can see their outline through the lace in my reflection and so can he.

“Your curves are magnificent, your tiny waist. I feel as though I ache to touch you.” He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “Stop dancing.”

I take a step toward him and motion with my hands for him to part his legs. “How should I address you?”

“Address me as your Lord Duke.”

I almost roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of it.

“And kneel.”

“No,” I say firmly and lean into him once more. I grip the arms of the throne behind his elbows so my biceps brush against his. “This is my room, these are my rules. My Lord Duke.”

“I will leave…”

“And free my night up to many more obedient clients.” My nose moves across his cheek without touching. “Which would be unfortunate. I so wanted to make you beg for my pussy… My Lord.”

I hear the tell-tale squeak of his hands gripping the glossy wood. “I won’t beg.”

“Oh you will.” I place my knee between his thighs. I can feel the heat of his swollen cock against my knee. “How much time do you have, my Lord Duke?”

“An hour.”

“And how much money do you have, My Lord Duke?”

“Enough to buy you.”

I grin. “We’ll see.”

“Is that not what I’m doing right now?”

“No. You’re hiring me. I can’t be bought.”

“I fail to see the difference.”

I touch his chin with my fingertips and tip his head backwards. “I’m an illusion, my Lord Duke.” As swiftly as I can, I grab the straps that are tucked beneath the arm of the chair and wrap them around his wrist.

“What are you doing?” He demands and I quickly pin his other arm and strap that one too.

“I don’t trust you,” I state and take a step back, away from him.

“And I should trust you?”

I shake my head, releasing my hair from its netted confines. His nostrils flare when he inhales sharply. “I’d very much like to wrap your hair around my wrist as I fuck you from behind.”

“In what position would you have me?” I turn and bend forward, keeping my legs straight and slightly parted. My hands grip the bottom of the pole in the centre of the mirrored room. The cool air catches the grooves of my thong-clad folds, which I’m fully aware I’m exposing to him. “Like this?” He doesn’t respond. I feel the muscles in my thighs pull as I straighten and lift my leg above my head until my ankle is pressing against the pole. “Or maybe like this?”

“You’re flexible.”

“I am.”

He clears his throat and I see him tug against his confines. “Remove my tie.”

“Certainly.”

His eyes watch me hungrily as I prowl towards him. I watch myself in the mirror behind him. My moves are calculated and choreographed; even my walk is nothing more than a move I’ve been taught. A seductive dance.

Dipping my front, I reach for his tie and quickly release it. Without his permission, I also release the buttons of his jacket and push it open.

“May I use your tie, my Lord Duke?”

He leans forward and inhales the scent of my neck. I don’t use perfumes; I use my arousal to lure a man in by his nose. There’s no sweeter scent to a man’s primal instincts than the scent of her needing to be fucked.

“Certainly.” And the way he talks, the way he watches me, the way his cock strains against his pants makes me ‘need to be fucked’.

My fingers swiftly open the buttons of his shirt, revealing a strong, toned chest with a sprinkle of dark hair across his pecs. I move the tip of the tie across the hair and take delight in the way his muscles quiver and clench.

He strains against his confines once more. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” I tap his face with the wide end of the tie. “Shall I remove the lace, my Lord Duke? Would that please you?”

“Yes. Release my hands so I can help you.”

“You mistake me for somebody with an inferior mind. I might be less than your title, my Lord Duke, but I’m not stupid.”

His answering smile is almost feral. “I simply wish to unwrap you. I wouldn’t touch your body without your permission.”

“What part of me do you wish to touch the most?” I untie the lace at my calf and slip it into his fingers. His hold on it is tight and strong so I lower myself to the ground and extend my leg. I circle it in the air, untwisting the lace from around my leg until it is completely exposed.

“Your legs,” he gulps and wets his lips with his tongue as I pull myself onto my knees and remove the lace from his strong grasp. “I want to feel your flawless skin as I part them with my hands.”

“Hmm,” I close my eyes, still kneeling between his legs, and allow my hand to drift down to my swollen folds. My thong is damp with my juices. I rub the surface with three fingers, smiling secretly when I hear him strain against his confines again. “Do you like to eat pussy, My Lord Duke?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” He responds hoarsely, nodding for me to come closer. “You smell divine. I can smell your cunt. You’re attracted to me.”

As I rise to my feet before him, he grabs the lace at my knee and holds tight once more as I unravel my leg to my hips, giving him a clear view of my voluptuous rear and glistening sex. “I’ve never been attracted to a man more.” Surprisingly this isn’t a lie; the words fall from my mouth far too easily and the thought of straddling this insanely handsome man and riding him into oblivion only makes me wetter.

“How much to let me touch that glorious arse?” He asks gruffly, tugging his wrists to release them. “Release me.”

“No.” Turning again, I place my hands on his knees and push my fingers up to his groin, stopping when I feel the heat of him against my knuckles. He bucks his hips forward in an attempt to have me touch him so I pull away and tap his face with the wide part of the tie. “More, my Lord Duke?”

“Release my bindings. I’ll pay you any amount.
Any.
” He strains again and curses under his breath, though his body stills when I unravel the last of the lace revealing my smooth stomach and heavy breasts. My nipples are still erect, less than a foot from his face. “I see now what all of the fuss is about.”