Chapter 1
Chapter One
Brielle
I walked into the Warwick Hotel wearing black stiletto heels and a short black dress. My eyes were covered behind oversized round black sunglasses, complementing my long, dark, wavy hair, and my lips painted cherry red. The lobby was quite busy this afternoon, and as I strolled up to the front desk, I was greeted pleasantly by Joseph, one of the clerks who had known me for the past five years.
“Good afternoon, Emmy.” He began typing away at his computer. “Should I just charge the card that’s on file?”
“Good afternoon, Joseph. Always.” I smiled.
“Your key, Madame.” He handed me the card. “Enjoy your stay.”
I gave him a small smile as I took the elevator up to the thirtieth floor, slid my key card, and opened the door to the room I considered my second home: Room 3010. After throwing my purse on the bed, I set my bag down and went into the bathroom to check myself before my client arrived.
There was a light knock at the door, and when I opened it, a man in his mid-forties who was approximately five foot eight with short black hair and a light mustache nervously stood there.
“Hi, I’m Emmy.” I smiled. “You must be Lawrence.”
“Nice to meet you, Emmy.”
“Come in and make yourself comfortable.” I gestured with my hand.
He stepped inside the room and looked around. His hands fidgeted, and I could tell he was a nervous wreck.
“First time?” I asked to try to ease his nervousness.
“Yes.” He turned and looked at me.
“How about a drink?” I asked as I walked over to the mini bar.
“Sure. Got any bourbon?”
“Of course.” I lightly smiled as I poured him a glass. “So, Lawrence, how do you like being a dentist?”
He answered my question, and we made small talk. I always liked conversing with my new clients first to ease into what was coming. He sat on the edge of the bed while I slipped out of my dress. I could see the beads of sweat form on his forehead. I hoped this guy wouldn’t have a heart attack on me. I knelt between his legs and softly brushed my lips against his, testing the waters. He paid extra for kissing, so I needed to ensure he wanted it. His hands nervously roamed to my breasts, which were covered by a black lace push-up bra.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Emmy.”
“And you’re a very sexy man, Lawrence,” I spoke as my fingers unbuckled his belt.
After undoing his pants, I slid my hand down the front of them and grabbed hold of his semi-hard cock, stroking it softly and feeling it harden in my hand. He moaned and then grabbed my hand and pushed it away.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can go through with this.”
I sighed as I sat beside him, touching his thigh.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on at home that drove you to contact me in the first place?”
“I love my wife. I really do. We’ve been married for fifteen years and haven’t had sex in over a year. She’s always tired, never feeling well, the kids drive her crazy, and we grew apart. I hate that it happened to us. We’re both so busy between our jobs and the kids. Emmy, I’m starving for sex. A man can only take care of himself for so long. But despite all of our problems, I don’t think I can cheat on her. I thought I could come here, have a fun time with you, and go home. But the reality is, we haven’t done anything, and I already feel guilty.”
“Listen, Lawrence. I love that you love your wife, and you should. You have a beautiful family and so many wonderful memories. What you need to do is reignite your passion with her. Take her on a date. Get someone to watch the kids and go away for a long weekend. I can guarantee that if you make her a priority and forget everything else for a minute, you will be having sex again. You two must rediscover what being a couple in love is like. When was the last time you bought her flowers for no reason?”
“I don’t know. Years, I guess.”
“Then start there. When you leave here, stop at the florist, buy the prettiest flowers they have, take them home to her, and tell her how much you love her. Arrange for someone to watch the kids and take her to dinner. Don’t tell her about it. Just do it.”
He placed his hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you, Emmy. I’m going to do just that. I’m sorry that I wasted your time.”
“You didn’t waste my time, Lawrence. Just remember that my fee is non-refundable.”
“I know.” He smiled as he stood up, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “I know I already paid, but here’s something extra for being so cool about all this.”
I took the money from his hand, stood up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you. You’re a good man, Lawrence, and your wife is very lucky to have you.”
After he left the hotel room, I changed into a pair of ripped jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, and my black Converse. Grabbing my phone, I sent a text message to Ben.
“I’m leaving the hotel in about five minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting, Brielle.”
I grabbed my purse and bag, put on my sunglasses, and walked out the door. Once I reached the lobby, I went to the front desk to check out.
“Let me guess. He couldn’t go through with it?” Joseph smirked.
“No. He couldn’t.” I smiled.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, Emmy.”
“You too, Joseph.”
I walked out the lobby doors and climbed into the back of the sedan.
“That was quick.” Ben smiled as he glanced back at me.
“He was feeling guilty. I felt bad for the guy,” I said as I took off my wig, pulled my long blonde hair back into a ponytail, and placed a black Nike cap on.
I removed my green-colored contacts and placed them and my false eyelashes in their case. Taking the makeup remover wipes from my bag, I cleaned my face.
“Where to? Home?” Ben asked.
“No. I want to go to the shooting range for a while.”
“You got it, boss.”
Ben Riley had been my driver and one of my best friends for the past four years. He was a handsome guy who stood six foot four, with black hair that he kept in a buzz cut and a full beard and mustache that he always kept neatly trimmed. We met in a coffee shop when our coffee got switched. He grabbed mine, and I grabbed his. Luckily, neither one of us had left yet. We exchanged coffees and got to talking. It turned out he had just lost his job as a driver to an influential family in New York City and was on the hunt for one. It just so happened that I had been thinking about hiring someone to drive me to and from my jobs. It was a win/win for both of us. He was a part-time artist who loved to paint and sculpt things. Unfortunately, what he did wasn’t bringing in much money, so he depended on another part-time job to fill in the gap. It didn’t take too long for us to become friends. He was my confidant, and I could talk to him about anything.
Ben pulled up to the curb of the shooting range, and I climbed out of the car.
“I’ll only be about an hour,” I said.
“I’ll be waiting for you.” He smiled.
I walked inside and saw Jimmy standing behind the counter.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“Hi, Brielle. Haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks.”
“Life, Jimmy. Life.” I smiled as he reached under the counter and handed me my box.
Taking my lane, I put on my protective glasses and my earmuffs. Ejecting the magazine from my 9mm Glock 43 Caliber, I loaded it with bullets, disengaged the safety lever, aligned my eye with the target, and began firing.
“Damn, Brielle,” Jimmy spoke. “God help anyone who pisses you off.”
I smiled at him as I stared at the six bullet holes that were perfect shots. After practicing for about an hour with moving targets, I unloaded my gun, packed up, and headed home.
“Have a good day, Jimmy. I’ll see you next week.”
“Looking forward to it, Brielle.”
I’d been going to the shooting range for the past five years. Being a twenty-seven-year-old woman alone in New York City and my profession, I needed to protect myself. If you haven’t already figured it out, I’m an escort. Not just any escort, but a self-employed high-end escort. The men who acquired my services were wealthy—doctors, lawyers, hedge fund managers, CEOs, dentists, etc. You get the picture. Ninety percent of my clients were married. The other ten percent were those who had no interest in dating a woman but needed sex.