1. Laura
laura
. . .
O nce I reached adulthood, everything had always been in my control.
Of course it was. I knew what I wanted. I knew how things were supposed to be, and I wouldn’t allow them to happen in any other way.
In my life, there was no room for error.
Even the smallest one could jeopardize my entire plan.
From childhood to adulthood, every move I made was calculated. Risky at times, but every risk had always ended up paying out in the end.
I studied the law—hard—even before I left for school, so I’d know my rights when I was finally eighteen, moved across the country, and completely cut off my parents.
At one point, I even considered getting emancipated, but that would have been more of a fight than I was willing to go through. Especially when my future law career depended on my grades coming out of high school.
It was hard. But again, a calculated risk, especially when I saw the look on their faces when I told them they would never see me again.
It was the best decision I’ d ever made.
It allowed me to attend NYU and later Yale without their constant breathing down my neck and their toxic fights raising my blood pressure.
Which doesn’t mean it was easy.
School was hard. But after graduation I finally found myself with a career that I excelled at. I even opened my private practice. It was nice—comfy even.
But real money never came from… law-abiding, legitimate clients. And I was never one to settle. I knew there was more out there for me.
More money.
More excitement.
I never pretended to have chosen this career because I wanted to do good. I wanted money. I wanted more out of my life.
I wanted excitement. And there was something so tempting about working with the worst of the worst—within boundaries, of course, but ones I established.
Watching criminal defense lawyers back in college had given me an epiphany.
I could make this job as interesting as possible. More money meant more risk, so I had to be safe, and the payout needed to be worth it.
And each time I succeeded, the more confident I got.
It wasn’t long until the little girl who got straight A’s and wore pigtails was a bloodthirsty woman who would stop at nothing to get her greedy fingers around her next goal.
“Seven counts of bribing with intent to influence an officer,” I concluded with a sigh as I read over the papers in front of me. I leaned back in the chair and took off my reading glasses. I had lost track of how many hours I had been staring at screens and small printed letters.
But for her , I would make an exception.
Even if it was three hours past the time I should have been at home with a glass of wine in my hand.
Her form slowly came into view as my blurry vision corrected itself.
Her shoulder-length honey hair gleamed from the warm lighting in my office.
I refused to turn on the overhead lights, as much as it might help my vision, especially since my clientele usually preferred a more private-feeling environment.
One that promised discretion.
“I thought you were a professional, Ax,” I said, my eyes searching her face.
She remained as impassive as ever, her face not once giving away her feelings on the matter. She was dressed in her signature suit, her hands resting on either side of the leather chair she was sitting on.
She ran a queer BDSM club that thrived on privacy and catering to high-profile patrons. It was hard work to get in with all the background checks, but once you were in, it was like heaven.
Live shows, matches, private rooms, and a beautiful mansion to house it all. It wasn’t easy to keep it running, and it made up for a good chunk of my billable hours, but I enjoyed it.
I wasn’t intimidated often, but Ax’s lack of tells got me almost every time. In my job, I always had to know how to read people. The ones I couldn’t were always the more dangerous ones.
But I had known her long enough to know that she respected me. Maybe only because I delivered, but it was enough for me. I didn’t need friends . I needed to be friendly enough to keep the money coming and gain enough people’s trust to make sure both of us stayed out of jail.
“You’re the professional,” she replied, her eyes narrowing. “That’s why I hired you.”
Her bluntness caused a small chuckle to fall from my lips.
“I assume you’ll send me the names of these officers?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Once that’s done, I’ll take care of it.”
Ax had me on retainer for more years than I could count. I didn’t always win, especially when her friends at the FBI got involved, but I took pride in my success rate with her and her club.
She stood and pulled an envelope out of her jacket before gently placing it on the table. It was stuffed with cash, and there was a handwritten sticky note on it in her handwriting.
“Just make sure it’s clean,” she added, her tone serious.
“Who do you take me for?” I sent her a look. “This is a walk in the park for me. Expect the charges to be mysteriously dropped by Monday morning.”
This got me a slight quirk of her lips.
It was one of the easier jobs. Most of the work would be to get enough dirt on the cops to get them fired and a mountain of blackmail on the prosecution before they could even build a proper case.
If that failed, I could always go after the judge.
“One last thing,” she said as she looked toward my office door just as the door opened and a well-dressed woman with long hair and a bright smile came in.
I had wondered who Ax had brought with her and why they had stayed outside.
I was also honestly shocked that it wasn’t her partner.
Now it made sense. “A gift for your continued service.”
“Making house calls?” I teased and stood, my eyes wandering the petite girl’s form.
Heat twisted inside me.
I had been so busy in the last few weeks that I hadn’t had time to take care of my own needs, sexual or otherwise.
“I’ve missed you,” the girl answered as her long legs brought her to my desk. “You haven’t come in months.”
Months. Has it really been that long since I visited the club?
I could blame it on the work, but I knew there was another reason I hadn’t gone in a while. It wasn’t because I didn’t enjoy my time there or because the girls didn’t satisfy me.
Trying to get myself off had started to feel like a job. Getting her off even more so.
A mundane routine that served a purpose but never provided me with any true excitement.
One of the great joys in life was seeing a woman on the verge of an orgasm. Her head thrown back. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Her body shaking as she got closer and closer to the precipice. The moans, the groans, the whimpers, the whispers.
But I was just… bored. And so tired.
After years of working my ass off, exhaustion was settling in. The only reason I wasn’t hospitalized with a burnout was that I took care of myself. Gym, healthy food, and anything else I could control.
The club was once a way to let loose, but with my need to control came the inability to fully let go. I could indulge, but only up to a point. I could enjoy the pleasure but never get lost in it.
But I wouldn’t say no to one of my favorite gifts, especially not as a gift from the club owner.
“I’ve been busy,” I murmured, then looked back up to Ax. “I appreciate it. But next time, no need to spoil me.”
She gave me a small shrug before turning and making her way to the door. A woman of few words.
“She knows what to do when you’re done,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“A pleasure ,” I echoed as the sound of the door softly shutting rang through the still room. I dragged my fingers down the girl’s long neck, digging my nails in just enough to cause her to shiver. “You’ll be good for me tonight, won’t you?”
When she nodded, I pulled back with a smile and tugged my hair loose from my ponytail. It cascaded down my back and shoulders and eased the slight tension in my forehead.
“Good,” I purred. “Now on your knees.”