Number Six (The Villains #3)

Chapter 3

Take Me

I t was seven the next evening, and T immo, aka Tiffany Monahan, was Monique’s last client of the day. She never took many. Why would she? Monique didn’t need the money, and she liked to be on top of her game for the women she shared her skills with.

Timmo was the shortest, butchest woman Monique had ever met, and she was an absolute delight: a bundle of charm and cheekiness and youth with an irrepressible grin that could not be wiped from her face, not even when Monique explained her fee.

“It’s all right, y’know,” Timmo said. “I’ve been saving all summer for this.”

“Is that so?” Monique purred, eying her unbuttoned blue-and-red flannel shirt over a black tee. That form-hugging shirt was tucked into worn black jeans above brown boots. “What do you do?”

“Farmhand, officially. Shitkicker, more realistically. Think of the grossest jobs on a ranch in nowhere, Nebraska, and I’m your boy.”

“ Boy ? Would you prefer to be called by male pronouns?” Monique asked gently.

“Nah, it’s just what the crew calls me.” Her voice deepened and she bellowed, “‘Hey, boy, there’s a pile of shit that needs shoveling, get on it.’” She shrugged. “Doesn’t bug me in the least. I get mistaken for a boy so often, I just roll with it. They think they’re pissing me off, but they ain’t.”

“They want to rile you up? Why?”

“I pull more chicks than they do!” She laughed hard, and her bulk shifted and rolled like the incoming tide. It just made her all the more delicious to Monique.

“My, my. Are you a lady-killer, then?”

Timmo’s eyes crinkled. “Yes and no. I’ve never had a lady before. Every woman I’ve ever been with has been rougher than a cowboy’s butt after ten hours in the saddle. I’m not knocking my lovers, y’know. I like ’em all. We are what we are, and it’s fun, but that’s not what I dream about.”

Monique leaned in. “And what do you dream of, darling?”

“It’s been my fantasy to be with a lady for so long, I can’t even tell you.” She ran her eyes appreciatively over Monique’s form. “Someone real pretty, y’know? With manners and elegance and who dresses so lovely. Maybe she comes from old money and has actual refinement? Like she’s seen the inside of a ballroom or a concert hall. Not another grunt like me who thinks cutlery’s more a suggestion than a requirement.”

“I understand.” Monique subtly shifted until she was indeed posed more gracefully. “If it helps, I do know which one’s the salad fork and how to do a Viennese waltz, and while I’m not ‘old money’, I’m well off enough to be in no need of it.” Her expression was teasing. “So, what would you do with your lady?”

“ I’d worship her,” Timmo said, her intense gaze fixed on Monique. “Every inch of her. And I’d probably faint like a sack of potatoes if she worshipped me right back.” She ran her fingers through her slicked-back blonde hair. “God, I’m so excited, I’m about to burst.”

Monique smiled. “Did you come to Vegas just for me, darling?”

“Oh, no. My best friend from school, Marty, is getting married. He wants an Elvis wedding. I’m the best man. Soon as I heard where it’d be, I wondered if maybe I could tick that fantasy off my list. There’s a lot of beautiful ladies here. Have you seen the dancers?”

“Indeed I have.” Monique’s smile widened. “And been with one or two.”

Timmo’s eyes became rounder. “Wow. Lucky you.”

Monique smirked and pushed her laminated page toward Timmo. “I’m sure you’ve probably already seen this on my website, but it’s my menu of choices. What number appeals to you?”

Briefly, Timmo scanned the page, but it was clear she’d already seen what was listed. “Number one.”

How surprising. “That’s usually selected by women new to sapphic delights, or those who are questioning their sexuality. It’s like a primer of what lesbian sex is like.”

“I know.” Timmo’s cheeks reddened. “Honestly, I want to know if I’m doin’ it right. And more than that, I want to know how to treat a lady. Or improve my technique if I’m doin’ okay. A fumble down her pants behind the cowshed ain’t exactly the best education on what to do. I want to start with the…uh…fundamentals. Work my way up from there. When you’re horse riding, you start with walking, not galloping.”

Monique nodded. “I like the way you think.”

“You do?” Timmo grinned hard. “Good, cos I like you a whole lot.”

She reminded Monique of an enthusiastic puppy. A terribly cute one. “Do you wish me to use toys?”

Timmo shrugged. “Never used ’em before. Wait, do I get to use one on you?” Her eyes went wide, as if she were suddenly considering the possibilities.

“I’m afraid not,” Monique said with a chuckle at Timmo’s hopefulness. “I adhere strictly to the menu. You may touch me only if I allow it. And you will not be granted permission to enter me, toys or no toys.”

“Really?” Timmo bit her lip. “So I can’t tongue you or anythin’?”

“That I might allow. I’ll let you know if I approve when we’re in the moment. But fingers and toys inside me, no. If you do want that from a sexual partner, I have a list of lovely women who are experienced, talented, and full-service.”

Monique half expected Timmo to opt for going elsewhere. She’d come so far to be here, it seemed likely she wouldn’t want to waste her time on not getting everything she’d fantasized about.

Instead, Timmo just grinned and said, “Nah, that’s fine. I’d like to stick with you, if that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun.”

Timmo beamed from ear to ear. “What happens next?”

“Next, I ask cash or credit? And after that, you get wet and naked…in the shower.”

“Right. And, uh, it’s cash.” She pulled out a worn, black Velcro wallet and slapped it onto the desk.

* * *

Timmo’s tanned expanse of flesh was a delight to explore. She was so responsive to every touch and trailed finger. Her large, pillowy breasts gleamed from the wetness of where Monique’s tongue had been, and her ample stomach rose and fell sharply as she gasped out breaths.

“Uh…Ms. Carson?” she gulped as Monique tongued her clit with expert swishes.

Timmo had an impressive clit that was large and swollen. A mouthful to be toyed with. Delightful. Monique really loved her job.

She met Timmo’s desperate eyes and let go of her clit. “Yes, darling?”

“I don’t often beg, but I’m prepared t’ do it. Let me have a memory to go home with? Can I do the same to you?”

Monique considered the request. She knew she was privileged to live in a large city with everything—and everyone—at her fingertips. Timmo lived in the middle of nowhere and couldn’t fulfill any fantasy without the investment of a great deal of time and money.

“I’ll think about it,” Monique said and then plunged her tongue deep inside her.

Timmo wailed in pleasure.

Monique ran her hands all around Timmo’s large thighs, smooth as could be except for a scar at the knee. Timmo had already explained that as a farm accident. “Me versus a bull. Didn’t win.”

She was so gorgeous, so enthusiastic, with all that flesh to rub and tease and fuck. Monique was quite certain Timmo was having the time of her life too, given that every part of her body was quivering and she was moaning.

Maybe she would indulge the young woman. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to have those cheeky lips nuzzling her clit. She was also rather curious as to whether Timmo had any talent. It might be interesting to find out. She hadn’t exactly allowed Timmo to worship her, which had been a big part of the woman’s fantasy.

Five minutes later, Timmo’s eyes grew very wide as Monique shimmied out of her pants and panties and turned to face her. She still wore her white blouse and a black bra, but nothing else.

“Well, darling, it’s time to see what skills you possess.” She offered a cocky smile. “Think you can please a lady?”

“Oh my fucking God.” Timmo whimpered. “Oh my God . You’re so beautiful.”

Monique preened a little. “Well. May I sit on your face?”

Timmo nodded hard.

“No fingers, though,” she cautioned.

Timmo shook her head.

“Good.” Monique got into position, lowering herself onto that eager mouth. “Make me come, darling. Show me what you’ve got.”

Timmo’s strong, rough hands clasped her ass to hold her in place. Her mouth opened and seemed to swallow Monique’s pussy and then wetly swirled her tongue all over her, from clit to entrance.

And, yes, it felt nice. Really nice.

That roaming tongue prodded her entrance a few times, and Monique squirmed. More than nice.

Then her tongue was hard against her clit, pressing with force, until Monique felt arousal hitting.

A smug delight lay in Timmo’s eyes now as she tasted Monique’s essence. Timmo’s hands began to make squeeze-and-release motions on her ass.

Monique was dripping. Aching. She undid her shirt and pushed her breasts from her bra.

Timmo’s tongue froze in mid stroke. Then her eyes clenched shut, and she began to quiver.

The woman was coming? Monique ground herself against Timmo’s mouth, taking over where she wanted the pressure and how. Her pleasure was building rapidly, and it intoxicated her how much she was enjoying herself.

Timmo’s eyes opened again, a glazed look in them, half stunned, half stupefied. Then she took Monique’s clit between her lips and sucked it as if she were trying to force ice up a straw.

Monique came. Shuddering and shaking, she put her hands on either side of the wall behind the bed and thrust against Timmo’s mouth, reveling in the little shudders. Then she stilled.

Gently, she extracted her body from Timmo’s mouth and rolled over onto her side.

“Wow.” Timmo gasped. Her mouth was red and her lips swollen. A sheen of wetness was smeared across most of her lower face. “You’re… Wow .”

“It turns out you do know how to please a lady,” Monique said dryly. “Just so you know, it’s rare I allow that.”

“Thank you,” Timmo said, her tone reverent, holding Monique’s gaze. “I mean that.”

“Was it everything you fantasized about?”

“Nah.” She grinned.

Monique blinked. “It wasn’t?”

“It was so much more. I mean, fuck . I don’t even have words for how amazing that felt.” S he looked up at her from her eyelashes.

Monique smiled, pleased.

“You really are so beautiful,” Timmo said quietly. “I could just stare at you for hours.”

“You’re pretty adorable yourself.”

“Eh, I’m a short, fat little butch.” She shrugged.

“You say that as though they’re bad things. They’re not, darling. Every woman is beautiful to me. Some more inside than outside. I think you’re both. I do hope you’ll visit me again sometime.”

Timmo blushed hard. “I’d love that, but unfortunately I had to save six months to afford this.”

There was a slight edge there, a question perhaps.

“I’m sorry it’s hard for you.”

“Yeah.” Timmo hesitated. “I’m just wondering, though. If you don’t need the money and someone who really needs to see you is, um, financially strapped, would you ever consider a discount?” Her tone rose to hopeful.

“I can’t,” Monique explained gently. “I don’t do discounts, not even for the cute ones. I know what I charge is a lot. But I have to charge that, or I’m sending a message I don’t like. It’s about valuing myself at a level I’m comfortable with. If I discount my rates, I’m discounting my body, and it tells people I’m not worth much. I won’t do that.”

Timmo sagged.

“But I argue that access to me is well priced for what I’m offering. Most people sell their brain or their muscles to employers. But they don’t also include their vulnerabilities and being stripped bare, emotionally and physically. When I charge a client, I’m giving a lot for that. I’m not just a body. This isn’t just sex. I’m giving them access to so much more. And I’m worth it.”

“Yeah.” Timmo nodded. “You so are. Sorry to ask. I just really want to see you again, and I won’t be able to afford it for ages.”

“I understand. I’ll count down the months till we meet again.” She grinned.

Timmo laughed. “Thanks.” She sat up and began dressing.

Chuckling with her, Monique rounded up her own clothes, dressed, then saw Timmo out. She put her hotel phone back on the hook, her cell phone off silent, and sprayed a little air freshener.

As she tidied up, she smiled. It was satisfying being with someone so enthusiastic, so delighted by being with her. Timmo had been undemanding, easy to please, in touch with her body, and in love with being aroused.

Not every woman came to her with so few hang-ups or so much self-awareness.

And while Monique loved all the interesting challenges her many and varied clients presented her with, sometimes the Timmos of the world were a wonderful breath of fresh air. A woman who took one look at Monique and knew exactly what she wanted.

It was flattering being desired. Yet that wasn’t why she did what she did. What she also loved was being needed . She took a great deal of pride in unfurling the petals of a tight bud: the moment of awareness of a woman discovering her own pleasure, sometimes for the first time. When that happened, she felt like an all-powerful queen.

Being worshipped as one was fun too. She smiled to herself as she remembered the way Timmo had looked at her with burning hunger and complete wonder. Some days—hell, most days—that was enough too.

Monique went to strip the sheets.

A knock sounded, short and sharp.

Monique frowned. She wasn’t expecting another client until tomorrow. Monique’s plans were a sedate room service dinner while she looked over some company prospectuses that her business manager, Ray, had sent over. He’d flagged them as ripe for investment.

Opening the door, Monique drank in the unexpected sight. The stranger from the hallway yesterday whom she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind.

“Ms. Carson?” she asked, gaze darting about.

“Yes?”

“I’m in need of your services,” she said. Her words were curt and clipped, her accent faintly German. How intriguing.

Monique rapidly tried to go through her mental schedule as to when she could make room to book in this intriguing woman. One thing was certain: she could scarcely wait.

She smiled and said, “Well. Do come in.”