Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Jasmine
I woke up the next morning to the scent of bacon, hot, fresh bread, and coffee.
I stirred in the massive bed I was left in, silk sheets knotted and curled around my naked body. The scent of Eric’s cologne and our night of debauchery still clung to the sheets. It made for a wild, wonderful combination, especially given the reminder of how many times we’d fucked was a large part of the reason why my stomach growled so viciously at the scent of breakfast.
Was Eric cooking his own food? Or did he have a live-in chef? Maybe one that came specially when he wanted to show off a gourmet meal for his guests? Guests he, by admission of himself and everyone around him, didn’t have many of.
I rolled around on the bed, getting more tangled in the sheets before I got less untangled and finally managed to free myself from the silk prison that was keeping me from breakfast.
It was when I finally let my feet hit the ground, I realized that this outing had left me without proper pajamas to run around in. Well, it wouldn’t necessarily be the first time that I had done the walk of shame.
Finding my dress from the night before, I slipped it on without the bra and panties, almost making it into a nightie. I winced as I ran my fingers through my hair in a futile attempt to comb the tangles and matted flatness on the one side of my head that I had slept on. Maybe I would look halfway appealing.
The next hurdle would prove to be trekking through Eric’s apartment. I left the bedroom, fairly sure that his place covered the entire top floor of the building. There were numerous rooms, halls, and open spaces that made it feel like it could have been a labyrinth instead of an apartment. There was art everywhere. Paintings. Sculptures. Mirrored art works. It was almost too easy to get distracted by it all.
Almost. There was the scent of breakfast to follow.
And follow it I did. Right through two hallways that we somehow were able to navigate from the front door to his bedroom the night before, and into the massive kitchen where all the magic was happening.
There were skillets and pots on the stoves—stoves, yes, multiple of those damn things—and several plates already set out with various spreads of bread, fruits, bacon, sausage. All of it looked and smelled mouth-watering.
But none of it was anywhere near as mouth-watering as the man who was heading the operation.
Eric stood bare chested and in the black silk boxers that he had worn to bed the night before. He moved around his kitchen like liquid, like he was the master and every tool, utensil, cut of meat, was merely an extension of himself.
I inwardly sighed. Was his beauty just limitless?
Without even looking up at me, he suddenly spoke, startling me.
“Don’t just stand there. Come over and start taking your pick of what I’ve already cooked.” Then, he looked up, a faint, unapologetic smirk on his face. “Sorry for making you sleep in so late.”
I raised a brow as I approached, since he was responsible for completely exhausting me. I plucked a piece of bacon off one of the plates and made a conscious effort not to stare at him too boldly.
“What time is it?” I asked curiously.
“A little after one.”
I promptly choked on the piece of bacon that I had taken. “Oh, shit.”
“Is that a problem?”
I shook my head. “No. No, it’s not that it’s a problem, it’s that I didn’t expect it to be so late. I’m not usually, uh…” I felt my face grow hot with a flush, and I stole another piece of bacon and definitely did not let my eyes settle on how toned his body was.
“You’re not used to being put out of commission after a single night with a stranger?” he teased.
“Well, when you put it that way…” I let myself smile, just a little. “I guess it was a very good experience. You, uh…” Fuck like a beast. Know how to eat pussy like a champ. Have the stamina of a god, despite your age. “You at least didn’t make Dominique bragging about you turn out to be a big fat lie.”
To my surprise, he groaned as he flipped over the pancakes in the skillet he was manning. “She didn’t.”
“She did.” I propped a hip against the counter near him. “Said those who you ended up with tended to leave without complaints.”
He rolled his eyes. “Dominique likes to talk, but I suppose when you’ve had the kind of life she’s had, you can’t really blame her for being as open as she is.” His expression softened. “Anyway, I’m glad I could leave you satisfied. It means that the conversation following breakfast will probably go smoother than I hope.”
“Conversation?”
“Yes. After breakfast. We both need to eat something good and filling and I don’t do business on an empty stomach.” He looked over to me, a sexy curve to his full lips as his gaze raked over me. “Besides, distracting my mouth is a good idea when I’m tempted to occupy it with other things.”
Heat flooded between my thighs again, but to my credit, I didn’t rise to the bait. I was too hungry for that.
Eric set up the spread of breakfast at the large island in the center of his kitchen. I piled my plate high, not shy about what I ate and certainly not about how much I ate. My stomach was making too much noise at this point for me to care.
“So, since we’re not talking business before breakfast,” I said after we’d settled at a small table in a nook of the kitchen and we started to tuck into our breakfasts, “what about non-business curiosity? I’ve been dying to know how you know Dominique. The way you two talk about each other, at first I thought maybe she just knew you through clients, but you seem to actually know her personally.”
“I do. Ironically, she was friends with my father.” At my intrigued expression, he laughed. “No, not that kind of ‘friends.’ She entertained a friend of his, and through that friend, they became friends. I suppose you could say, she’s very much like an aunt to me.”
I nodded, taking a bite of a delicious, fluffy pancake smothered in butter and syrup.
“And you?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine from across the table. “I know Dominique tends to set her sights on those she considers special. It’s difficult to pinpoint how specifically she finds such people, however. Each has their own story.”
Each has their own story. That was one way to put it.
I was quiet and contemplative for a moment as I ate my breakfast. I’d learned that a good rule to have for this kind of work was to allow things to be friendly enough to keep your clients feeling an intimate connection, but not so personal that there was too strong of an attachment. It was much smarter to separate business from real life, and that principle worked for me. Opening up candidly about my parents was difficult even with Dominique, and she was the only person alive who could say that they knew me the best.
Eating another self-indulgent piece of bacon, I put on a smile, like it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like I had to even talk about my parents to Eric; he hadn’t asked about them, specifically. He’d asked how I’d come to meet Dominique.
“I dropped out of college freshman year when I was eighteen after I lost my parents,” I said. Truth. “It was a difficult time—” also the truth “—and since I wasn’t in college, I needed to do something with my time but also make money. I didn’t start with escorting. I started with camming. Truth be told, I was very green at the beginning, but as I learned how to market myself, how to interact with the men that watched me, I learned how to create an experience that drew people in and kept those people coming back.” I ate another bite of pancake before going on. “For a while, about a year or so, this went well. I started getting more and more clients who really liked my one-on-one work. My first ‘escorting’ job came of that.” I shook my head, remembering the not so pleasant experience. “Ugh, it was a disaster.”
“Disaster? Yet you’re here now as one of Dominique’s jewels,” he said, his expression clear of any judgement. “Clearly the story isn’t done?”
Reluctantly, I shook my head. “Far from. I was new to the idea of escorting but hadn’t really thought that it could be much different than going on a date. I just thought of it as a date that was paid for.” I picked up a ripe blueberry but didn’t put it in my mouth as I continued. “The problem was the guy who hired me was a complete creep when we actually met up, and we hadn’t made any formal contracts because I didn’t know any better. He was a younger member of a board of directors for a hedge fund corporation, and from what I could tell, was only in that position because his father knew people who knew people.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “Nepotism at its finest.”
“Exactly.” I set the fruit back down and instead took a sip of my coffee, giving myself a moment before sharing more. “There was this dinner function that he was taking me to, and it seemed everyone there was bringing a lady entertainer. Only all of them were proper escorts and understood what the night was about. I hadn’t realized that I would be expected to act as this man’s submissive, let alone be comfortable with the kind of humiliation that he wanted to put me through.”
I swallowed hard. Even now, I could easily recall how he’d wanted me to be his little bitch. How that too-tight, too-cheap for an executive’s son collar had been put around my neck before other indignities began. I shuddered at the memory.
I met Eric’s gaze and continued on. “Anyway, Dominique was there as a guest of one of the older execs. He wasn’t really there for the showing off or the sex. He and Dominique were constantly talking to each other in decent and friendly conversation. She kept looking at me, though, while I dealt with that asshole. I wanted—desperately wanted—to leave, but it was a good paycheck and I needed the money, and I wasn’t sure how I would fair if I left suddenly or made him feel like I wasn’t grateful. Before we left for the night Dominique pulled me aside and asked me if I was doing okay. If I needed anything. I thought that maybe she had to be some kind of psychic because I had kept everything together up until she looked me in the eyes and asked me if I was alright, and if I even wanted to go home with that man. I broke down and told her that I didn’t, that he was just…horrible, but that I needed the money.”
I heard the scratch of my own voice as I spoke, but I’d come this far and there was enough compassion on Eric’s face to make me feel comfortable enough to finish. “So, she tells me to wait there, in the bathroom where she’d pulled me off to, and I listen to her because Dominique has this disarming way of speaking that makes everything seem like it’s going to be okay, even when you think it’s not. She comes back a few minutes later, a check in her hand, and asks if I would like to go out to dinner with her and the man she’s with, no strings attached. I’m free to say no, and the check is mine regardless.”
I could still remember how shocked I’d been by her offer. “I have no idea how to respond, so I just nod my head yes. She’s this honestly gorgeous older woman, she seems worldly, and the man she was with was kind, too, even flirtatious. They take me to this classy, refurbished speakeasy where there’s low jazz playing, people dancing. We eat, and she asks me about myself. Where I come from. How long I’ve been escorting. When I tell her that it was my first time, that I webcam for a living, she nods her head and says, ‘I thought I recognized you’. I thought maybe I was in another bad situation—sometimes you hear about people who take an interest in a specific girl, and then they stalk them or…or do other weird and bad shit to them. That wasn’t Dominique. She sees I’m about to bolt and just smiles at me and says, ‘Don’t think anything bad of it. I was hoping to find a way to get in contact with you, but it seems you just fell into my lap tonight. I like your work but I think you can do more than just peep shows from your bedroom, and make a lot more money’.”
I smiled a little. To others, the last part of that memory wouldn’t be a good one. But to me, I could only ever look back on it fondly because Dominique had changed my life, for the better.
I shifted in my chair, still shocked to see that Eric was watching me avidly, still so invested in my history, when most clients didn’t care less about my past. “Anyway, to make a long story short, she became my mentor. Taught me how to, one, vet potential clients, and two, the power of a solid, safe contract. I’ve only ever had one other situation where I felt like I couldn’t just leave if I wanted to, but that had more to do with the client than with my set up. Dominique has been good to me…she helped me through that bad patch and she’s become a trusted friend. Escorting isn’t what I expected to be doing, but I don’t regret it.”
Eric nodded, his eyes keen on me. “Honestly, that sounds like Dominique,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “She’s not a fixer upper. She’s a polisher. She sees a rock and knows beneath it there’s a geode, waiting to burst forth with the right amount of attention.”
“You think that’s how Dominique sees me?” I asked before I could stop myself. It was a description I hadn’t expected. Then again, Eric was into the arts and speaking like an artiste wasn’t outside of his wheelhouse.
“I think Dominque sees what anyone with a functioning mind would see,” he said, looking at me with a tilted head. “A dedicated, beautiful woman doing work that requires skills most don’t associate with your line of business—but anyone would be crazy to squander.”
Before I could respond, or even express thoughts that weren’t just a gibberish embodiment of the blush I was certain was on my face, Eric finished his glass of orange juice and began cleaning up the kitchen while I cleared the table. A short while later, with everything put away, he turned around to face me, the large island in the kitchen separating us.
His direct gaze met mine. “Now that we’re done eating,” he said, in that brisk, straight-forward manner that I had first experienced in my ‘interview’ with him, “I think now is as good a time as any to bring my proposal to you. I drew up a potential contract this morning. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to stay on as your client, exclusively. I have formal business, events, charity functions, and semi-formal meetings within the art industry. I frequent galleries, music halls, contribute to local school programs for the arts. I would like a regular date for such things. As you actually know your way around the art world, and I enjoyed your company last night at the gallery, I would like that date to be you. You, of course, are free to decline. You’re not obligated because of last night, and you will still be compensated for our nightcap even if you choose to make this a one-time venture.”
The way that he could go from casual conversation to business was, honestly, impressive. It didn’t stop the mental whiplash, of course, but my mind reeled as I tried to process it all.
I cleared my throat. “Well, I know my way around art if we’re talking about paintings. Sculptures. Those kinds of things. I may have to brush up and do some research if you’re also someone who ventures into the music world.” Orchestra and opera were not usually my thing.
Eric shook his head with an amused smirk. “That you’d consider brushing up means you’ve got a mind that’s open, which is rare and appreciated. Don’t worry. While my patience is a finite source, given last night I don’t believe it will be a problem in the way it’s been a problem for me in the past.”
He came around the island, brushing close to me as he passed by—close enough for me to smell the lingering hints of his cologne from the night before, and the very specific combination of morning sleep and cooking remnants as he did. Was it an intentional gesture? One to turn my head the way it did so I’d watch him walk away, so I could see that there was no good reason to say no to such a request considering how great he was in bed?
Probably not, but it made me feel better to think so than to admit my head was on a swivel for the man, and it wasn’t just the security of the position he was offering that was making it do so. Part of it was the lingering ache in my thighs and hips and between my legs as I waited for him to return, and part of it was the pleasure of watching his toned back ripple in movement as he disappeared down the hall.
Well, it wasn’t like Dominique hooked me up with him for just a one-time deal. Eric was offering me exactly what I wanted. A stable, reliable arrangement.
Eric returned a short while later, sweats over his hips as opposed to just his boxers, somewhat to my disappointment. In his hands was a set of papers he handed over to me.
“I have a complete outline of all events I have planned for the next six months,” he explained. “Date, locations, times. Level of formality versus casual, and any projected expenses that I would cover on top of your fees, plus a retainer bonus for any invitations I may extend your way.”
The formal way he’d broached the subject of sex almost made me smile, considering I’d shamelessly welcome any invitation he extended my way, regardless of any bonus or fees.
He continued, still in business mode. “There are additional details in there as well, a section where we may negotiate certain things in the bedroom and outside of it, as well as providing each other with a clean bill of health going forward so we don’t have to worry about condoms, if you’re agreeable. There’s also a clause to include you retaining rights to decline sex or any act you’re uncomfortable with, with assurance in writing from myself that it will not affect your pay or my treatment of you before, during, or afterward.”
I raised a brow in surprise. “You included a consent clause?”
Eric tilted his head as he looked at me. “Of course,” he said, as though the notion that he would not was offensive to him.
“It’s just, usually, I’m the one that brings consent clauses into contracts.” I looked back down at the agreement, flipping through the pages until I found the clause he was referencing. Yep. There it was.
In the case of Miss Greene and her autonomy over her body, she retains exclusive rights to decline any level and type of sexual act with Mister Maxim, with no fear of repercussion to her person, or to her monetary security thus.
A very, very formal consent clause.
After giving Eric a puzzled if not intrigued look, I sat back down at the table and read over the contract in full. He was a very detailed man, no stone left unturned. It was the most thorough contract I had ever been presented with, and it ensured equal consideration for the both of us within its pages. I would be given time to outline my preferences and limits, things that Eric would accept—within reason, unless it caused him to violate his own personal boundaries.
The contract already detailed the things that Eric absolutely would not budge on—no contacting family, friends, or colleagues I may meet while out with him without permission. No venturing into a specific room down the main hall of his apartment all the way at the end without permission. No taking things from his apartment, car, or other properties without permission.
That line, without permission, popped up rather frequently. So maybe it wasn’t that he refused to budge on personal matters, but that he wished for the courtesy to consider them first.
Interesting. And fair.
“When do you want this signed?” I asked him when I was done perusing the entire document. “And the parts where I should add my own limits and preferences and such?”
“Before the date of the next event,” he said, leaning against the nearby counter and crossing his arms over his bare chest. “So, you have three weeks. I would prefer within a week, as that would mean I would have the time to get you fitted for a dress for the venue.”
That was new. Most of my clients either specified what they wanted me to wear and left me to my own devices or provided a stipend for me to buy something appropriate to the event. That Eric wanted to be hands-on about my attire, so to speak, was yet another surprise about the man.
I looked back through the contract to the timetable of events to see which one he was referring to. The first one scheduled seemed to be a…luncheon?
I glanced up at him with a small frown. “I need to be fitted for a luncheon?”
He smiled. “It’s a special event for an eccentric acquaintance of mine. If you’re agreeing, you’ll be attending a 1920’s themed luncheon for his birthday. He isn’t the sort to do formal occasions, but he does like costume parties. I think this might be the tamest introduction to him. Last year it was a murder-mystery dinner, and the year before that it was an escape room.”
I stared at him, blinking.
“What?” he said.
I shook my head, chuckling to myself. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to picture the man who wore a bespoke suit and strolled through an art gallery last night doing—an escape room?”
For the first time, Eric had the nerve to look sheepish. “We all have our tiny pleasures and interests in life,” he said with a shrug. “Felix is one of those people whose pleasures and interests err on spending lots of ‘fun money’ to feel a little youthful again. I am, possibly regrettably, soft hearted in that way for him.”
Ah, so there was history there.
I hadn’t signed the contract yet, but from what I’d read I was all in. I smiled, giving Eric a little nod. “Well, in that case, I believe you should pencil me in for a dress fitting, Mr. Maxim.”