C4 Audrey

My luxury wardrobe was packed and ready to go. I was sitting in the office, crossing and uncrossing my legs, waiting for Mr. Preston to pick me up.
Elena clicked around the corner in her heels and frowned at me. “You look nervous—don’t be. It’s going to be fun,” she said.
“I really appreciate you giving me this opportunity, Elena,” I said. I sprayed my mouth with breath freshener for what was probably the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes.
“Well, you’re perfect for this job. Beautiful, smart. You’re able to hold your own in a conversation. And I have a guarantee that you’ll behave this time.” She gave me a look that I understood instantly.
“That guy was a creep, Elena,” I said defensively. “If I hadn’t run, I would probably still be his sex slave, shackled up in his scary basement.”
“We’re lucky he didn’t press charges against us,” Elena said. “And I don’t blame you for wanting to get out of there. But if there’s ever a problem, you call me. You don’t pepper-spray a client, handcuff him to a wall in his underwear, and then run away.”
“What if he was going to kill me, huh?” I asked. 
“He wasn’t going to kill you,” she responded, rolling her eyes at me as if I were being dramatic.
“Elena, he told me I was going to be his lifelong prisoner. And he’d already done some scary stuff to me at that point,” I said. “All I kept thinking was, who was gonna help my brother? Who was going to take care of him if I never came back?” I was traumatized more by the memory of that worry than by the creepy John himself. I could handle him. But Tommy being left all alone?
That I could never handle.
“There, there,” she said, coming over and rubbing my shoulders. “Don’t get all blotchy.” 
I knew she was being nice and cooing over me because I was her prized show pony of the moment. But I smiled at her anyway. She’d given me this assignment, and I was going to be able to set things up for Tommy now. So that if a John ever did decide to keep me as a permanent-resident sex slave, my poor brother would at least have a roof over his head.
She cupped my face in her hands and clucked her tongue in approval. “You’re perfect looking even when you’re upset,” she said. “And all your body parts are real. James Preston is going to love you. And then he’s going to love me, too.”
After staring off into space for a second, probably counting all the money she was going to make, Elena came back to earth. She looked at me. “Back to the pepper-spray incident. I do not want my girls getting hurt. Not ever. You call me if there’s a problem. If it’s bad, I’ll have you call 911 immediately. After I screen the issue. But that guy telling you that he wanted to lock you up and hate-fuck you every day for the rest of your life? Honey, you haven’t been around that long. That’s nothing. Really, that’s not so bad.”
I looked at her, indignant. “He had a basement filled with handcuffs and shackles, permanently affixed to the walls,” I said. “It seemed pretty bad at the time.”
She squeezed my face as if I was an insolent child. “I forgive you for running,” she said, even though I wasn’t asking for her forgiveness. “But I want you to make this James Preston thing your triumph. Your return to good graces. You remember that you owe me for giving you another chance. If you make him happy, I’ll be sure that you only get the best clients from now on. The normal ones, who just want to pretend that you’re the perfect girlfriend. And maybe jerk off in your face.”
“I’d take that over being chained up and hate-fucked by that fat, hairy dude any day,” I mumbled.
“Duh,” said Elena. “Who wouldn’t?”
* * *
Elena went back to her office, and I started pacing, intermittently misting my mouth, waiting for Mr. Preston.
“Dre. Dre!” my friend Jenny called. She burst into the room, breathing hard.
“Omigod, Dre. James Preston is out front! And he’s frickin’ gorgeous! Can I switch with you? Please? You can have Fat Vinnie, and Loopsy, and all my other regulars, but I’m not kidding you, you’re gonna die when you see him—”
“Jenny, I’m gonna die if you don’t stop talking so fast.” I said, laughing. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it, trying to calm her down. Even though we were about the same age, Jenny was like my little sister. I was always trying to soothe her and keep her out of trouble. 
I smiled at her and shook my head encouragingly. “Okay? You okay?”
She exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. “But I am not kidding you, Dre, you’re gonna frickin’ die. He’s that hot. I cross my heart and swear to God. My underwear are soakin’ wet just from looking at him.”
I laughed and held up my hand to stop her. “Okay, Jenny. I get it. He’s good looking.”
She looked at me expectantly. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked. She sounded disappointed.
I looked at Jenny, her sweet, open face. Jenny was my friend, but she was not the brightest of bulbs. The fact that my new client was frickin’ hot, as she put it, was not enough to get me excited. 
“Of course I’m excited,” I lied, and pulled her in for a quick hug. “I’m just nervous.” This, at least, was the truth. “I’m worried about being around his whole family for two weeks, for starters. And going to all those brunches and cocktail hours. Then a vacation. That’s a lot of family time…and I’m pretending to be someone else. Someone normal. Educated.”
“Dre, you are normal. And smart. You’re the smartest girl I know!” She hugged me again, her dirty-blond curls bouncing against me. “He’s gonna love you. He’s gonna love you in that blue dress you got on. You look good, girl. He might even try to buy you.”
I laughed out loud. “Buy me? Like a sweater?”
“Yeah, like his own personal sweater. Don’t be silly—you know what I mean. He might really like you. Enough to not want to just rent you.” She slapped me on the ass. “Although he’s gonna enjoy renting you!”
I laughed and swatted her away. “I don’t think it’s going to get that serious. Elena told me he said no sex,” I said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Jenny said. She sounded crushed. 
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing,” I mumbled.
“Oh, Dre, when you see him? You’ll know that would be the absolute worst thing that could happen to you. I’m telling you, he is—”
“Frickin’, panty-liquefying hot,” I finished her sentence for her. “Thank you. I’m glad you approve.” 
I grabbed her hands again. “Listen, I’m not gonna be able to talk to you for the next two weeks. I’m gonna miss you. You have to take care of yourself—don’t let Loopsy push you around. I mean it.” 
Jenny had a bunch of regular clients who saw her weekly, but I still always worried about her. She was blonde, round faced, and twenty-one, with pillowy, Angelina Jolie-like lips. Men always told her she had a mouth that was built for shoving a cock into. That’s what she told me the day I met her. And she’d laughed about it. She didn’t let things like that bother her, which was good, because they happened to her a lot.
There was a knock on the door, and Elena poked her head in. “Dre, Mr. Preston is here. Jenny, Loopsy’s called for you. Twice.”
“Tell him I don’t want to see him and his nasty, saggy balls,” Jenny said, smiling wickedly and inspecting her nails. 
She looked up and saw the madam frowning at her. “Just kidding, Elena! Tell the squirrelly little bastard I miss him—and his nasty, saggy balls.”
She turned to me and gave me one last hug. “If Loopsy ends up buying me, and James Preston ends up buying you…I’ll be frickin’ hurt. I mean it.” 
I shook my head at her in mock disgust, but suddenly I realized I was close to tears. “I’m gonna miss you, Jenny…be safe.”
“I’m gonna miss you, too…but don’t be such a baby,” she said, tossing her curls over her shoulder and winking at me. “And if he lets you get in there…suck it hard, girl! Let him know what it feels like to have a real woman.”
“Okay,” I said, laughing. “I will suck it. Hard.”
“That’s a relief,” said a man’s voice, from near the door. 
Jenny and I just looked at each other, eyes wide. Then she let out a whoop of laughter, and we both looked toward the door. And there stood a man, the most gorgeous one I’d ever seen. He had steel-blue eyes, dark hair, and massive shoulders underneath his suit.
He was exactly my type, and I didn’t have a type.
He was my worst nightmare, and I had to pretend that he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. For two weeks.
“Mr. Preston,” I said and forced myself to smile at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”