Chapter 4
Vanessa lives in a part of Chicago I haven’t been to in ages. The limo glides on the street like a fairy princess through postapocalyptic New York. We pass decades-old cars parked on the driveways before the garages.
Seeing cars outside garages makes me shake my head. People don’t take care of their possessions. A car is a possession. Put the damn thing where it belongs. Inside your house, not outside in the rain and snow, where bad people can steal it.
Her home is a one-story, two bedroom—I estimate—with a fenced-in backyard. A single fuel-efficient vehicle is parked out front, not even in the driveway. Brady pulls up next to it, and the house’s motion detector light comes on. At least there’s that.
I leave the car and open the door for Vanessa.
She steps out, taking care not to flash me her pretty pussy at the same time that the front door opens and another woman appears in the hallway.
She’s covered in darkness, but I make out a bun of hair at the top of her head and a size and shape like Vanessa’s. Could be her sister.
In front of me, Vanessa fidgets. Oh, the awkward moment of parting from a date. Not that I remember what it’s like to drop a girl off at home. Haven’t done that since prom.
I spare her the awkwardness and kiss her cheek. “Good night, baby doll.” Now would be a good time to close the seven-likes race. Say Good night, Daddy and let me spend the night planning our honeymoon. But no, not tonight. My game is shit, and I need a new game.
“Is that it?” she asks.
I step back and nod.
“But you paid half a mil for my hymen.”
“And I intend to collect.”
She scrubs her face, then fights with her hair.
“Leave the hymen to me, hm? It’s getting late.”
“Right, you have places to go.”
Warning. WARNING. Feisty train approaching my playboy land.
Unwilling to indulge her form of passive aggression, I nod.
I have a feeling she likes me. I have a feeling she doesn’t really want to go home, but she’s not quite sure if I’m married or engaged, so she prods, fishes, tries to get me to clarify.
I was plenty clear. If she persists in standing there, I’m gonna shove her back into the limo and bend her over the seat. Which would be a terrible waste of a hymen-penetrating experience. “Walk away while you still can,” I tell her.
That raises her eyebrows.
I smile, a show of teeth.
She scurries up the path to the front door, and the person inside closes it. I hear locking, so that’s good. I turn to go home, and the old efficient car parked outside catches my eye again. I glare. Pet peeves. I have many, and abandoned possessions is one of them.
To distract myself from aggressively pursuing her keys so I can park the damn thing inside the garage and lecture her on taking care of her car, and her hymen, for that matter, I tell Brady to drive me home.
Where I spend a few minutes jerking off in the shower, thinking about how that sweet pussy is gonna bleed when I finally penetrate it. God knows I love drawing first blood.
The next morning, at seven thirty sharp, I leave the gym for the shower, where I jerk off again, this time while I mentally lick Vanessa’s pussy.
Since jerking off this early in the morning veered from my morning routine, I hustle in the closet and dress, making it out of the room two minutes later than usual.
I check my watch as I enter the elevator and join the elderly couple already descending. No suitcases means they’re not departing or arriving, so they’ve stayed here for at least a night.
“How was your evening?” I ask.
The man answers me. “Excellent as always.”
“Ah, you stay here often.”
“Whenever we’re in the city. It’s the best, and affordable.”
Certainly not affordable for many people in the country, but best it is. I reach into my pocket and hand the couple my card. “Do let me know if there’s anything you need.”
The lady takes it and glances down. “Oh, how nice. Roger, this is the owner.”
Roger and I shake hands as the elevator reaches the lobby, and I check my watch. One minute behind my routine. I practically run to the front desk, checking my watch when I make it. Almost back to normal for the day.
“Good morning, Mr. Hellway,” Daniel greets me with a smile that lights up the already well-lit lobby.
The HR hires nice people who smile wide and take a nice paycheck.
The happiness of staff is a priority. Nobody wants to check in or work with people who forgot how to smile.
No, thank you. Grouches and gaslighters will find work elsewhere.
I keep it polite and friendly. “How is Freddy?” I ask about his husband, who came out of knee surgery yesterday. After all, cared-for staff makes my possession (the hotel) more valuable.
“He’s doing better. Thank you for the flowers.”
I nod. “Anything for me?”
“Packages and letters only, and I already sent the new boy”—Daniel wags his eyebrows to tell me what he thinks of the new hire I haven’t met yet—“to Aisha.”
“Complaints?”
“Also with Aisha.”
“I love working with you. Did I ever mention that?”
He swats my shoulder. “Stop it.”
I knock my knuckles on the front desk and bid him goodbye.
With no extra developments this morning, I’ve made up my jerk-off time, and, right on the second of my routine, I head for the coffee shop.
Not the one shop most guests use although I do sit in that one sometimes and make notes of what people say about the hotel or the city so I can best improve my services.
Pleasing people is my jam. Pleased people pay and return as customers, eventually becoming loyal. Delivering predictably great service is imperative to my business model, or any healthy business that thrives in my not-so-humble opinion.
I’m checking the emails as I wait in line for the coffee, greeting whichever employee glances my way as they rush to do more important things related to their job. I’m doing all the things I normally do, so when I arrive at the counter, I get thrown right off my routine.
Completely off my axis.
On the other side of the counter is Vanessa.
“What would you like, sir?” she asks with a smile, and there’s a few seconds’ pause while her brain processes, and her face shows recognition as my image passes from the ocular to the brain, then becomes evident in the widening of her eyes.
She freezes, and so do I. Smiling, I tuck my phone in my pocket. I was just opening the email that will tell me most of the things I need to know about her, which I intended to read this morning with my coffee.
I check her name tag. Vanessa. Didn’t lie about her name.
“Daily brew,” I order. “Bold and black. A splash of vanilla. Ham and cheese croissant.” I pick up mints from the counter. “Mints too.”
Vanessa shakes her head as if recovering from a bad dream where I stand here in my hotel and she is my employee. Technically, not my employee since this is a privately owned coffee shop, but still, she works in my hotel and had no clue.
Had she had a clue, she wouldn’t be so surprised to see me here and also wouldn’t have lied about being a kindergarten teacher.
“Here or to go?” she stammers.
“Here.” Definitely here.
Vanessa’s tight black shirt rides up her side as she grabs a blueberry muffin. It slips past the tongs, misses the plate, and bounces off the floor. She huffs out a breath and picks up another muffin, trying to make the tongs work it into the bag before handing it to me.
Her hands seem to shake, so it’s taking forever, but she manages to deliver a bag with a muffin. I accept a to-go bag with a smile.
At the register, she eyes the bill she placed before me, which I haven’t paid.
She swallows before telling me the total again.
Nassrine, the manager, walks up and wipes her hands on an apron. “She’s new, Mr. Hellway.” Nassrine swipes the bill off to the side. The woman insists on treating me in the mornings. Despite his felony charge, I employ her husband, and that kind of gratitude earns me perks.
“I see. Vanessa is a coffee shop virgin.” I smile.
Nassrine laughs, looking a little uncomfortable because I don’t normally throw out this sort of sexual comment at the staff. Pleasant and professional, I am. Right now, I’m a bit off. My morning is completely ruined, and distractions threw me off the path. However pleasant they might have been.
“This is Blake Hellway.” Nassrine introduces me to my lady. “The hotel owner.”
“We’ve met,” I say and lean over the counter. “Come here, baby doll.” Vanessa’s face turns bright red, but she leans in nevertheless. “I have a gala dinner to attend this evening. I would’ve called today, but seeing as the universe has placed you here early, I thought I’d not waste time.”
“I have homework this evening. I’m studying for my teacher cert.”
Ah. She’s trying to explain her lying about being a kindergarten teacher. “I’ll send the dress and jewelry.”
“I can’t this evening.”
“What is your shoe size? I’m afraid I’m not a foot man.”
“Nine. And a half sometimes, but I really can’t come with you.”
“Leave the panties at home, and have a lovely day.”