Our Elliana (She Belongs to Us #2)

ONE Badass Boss Lady

E LLIANA: AUGUST

I like to consider myself a badass boss lady. Daily, I don strappy stilettos, deep-V necks, and attire that clings to my curves in the most sensual fashion possible. I live for strong coffee, creating the perfect piece of jewelry, and wearing the most exquisite shade of red satin lipstick that won’t smudge.

As a thirty-year-old African American woman standing at a height of five foot and a quarter inch—yes, I fucking count that quarter inch—and growing up in the lowest income part of an affluent D.C. suburb, I can’t afford to project anything less than purpose and strength.

Even if inside, I’m a hot mess. I can be boiling over with stress and self-doubt, and early on, I often was. But that’s what crying jags in the shower are for.

Thankfully, those happen less frequently now.

I’ve had a lifetime of others doubting me. Even actively trying to discourage me. Those people are the reason that I never let anyone see me sweat. They’re why I hold my head high and dare the world to underestimate me. Elliana Destiny Pinkerton isn’t one to back down.

I learned a long time ago to go big or go home.

Was it scary to pool my limited resources and apply for a loan to begin an online jewelry business? Sure. Especially since I’d attempted it back during college sans loan and failed miserably.

I tried again anyway, though. Even if I had to panic-sweat my way through the loan paperwork. Then, I poured money into ads so people would know that my designs existed. That proved just as scary. Risky, too. Could’ve even drowned my fledgling startup before it ever got off the ground. I knew the odds were against me.

But despite those odds, my business didn’t tank. Taking such huge risks grabbed the attention I needed it to. Better, it worked so well that I had tons of orders pouring in. Enough to erase all my debt. Enough to require a brick-and-mortar store to meet all the demand. Cornering a rather unique niche of the market probably increased my chances, as well.

There are lots of jewelry stores out there. And a few that, like mine, specialize in piercings. But I cater to a more... let’s say, unconventional crowd.

People who not only like pierced ears but bolts through their eyebrows, cheeks, noses, lips, and/or tongues. Those who seek out bellybutton piercings. Nipple piercings. Even Prince Alberts—yeah, a peen ring—and VCHs or vertical clitoral hood piercings.

Can’t find most of that at Wal-Mart.

Maybe because I’ve narrowed my audience down to such a tiny sliver of the jewelry buying public, it’s proved to be profitable. Like, way profitable. And that’s just with a bachelor’s in business admin rather than some pricy Ivy League MBA. Not that such a degree might not have been advantageous, but it wound up being unnecessary.

Something else unnecessary? The amount of shitty advice I received from those who knew nothing about the area I was attempting to succeed in. Most of it along similar lines.

“Elliana, why don’t you just go into accounting? I heard the grocery store down the street is looking for a payroll clerk. At least that’ll provide you with a regular paycheck.”

And...

“Girl, it’s cute of you to have dreams, but only a lucky few will ever make it. Why not do your little jewelry designing thing as a side hustle?”

And...

“If you seriously want to see your stuff on others, why not give your earrings away for free? At least that’ll provide you with some exposure.”

One, I wasn’t interested in barely getting by on minimum wage in a job I’d likely hate. Two, a side hustle would never pay me enough to make it worth my while. And last but not least, I knew giving away my hard work for free wouldn’t be a wise business model. Maybe these so-called nuggets of wisdom had been intended to be supportive, but in the end, they weren’t.

In the end, these people were encouraging me to give up on my dream.

I knew making it for real would require more from me than that. I researched the market heavily. I took my time. I stockpiled designs and made a point of understanding the different facets of marketing necessary. Most important of all, I knew going in that I couldn’t ever stop reaching for that brass ring. I looked before I leaped, but I did leap. Even though I was terrified.

But I faced that terror because of a promise I’d once made. Actually, I made it twice. As a fifteen-year-old to my dying mother, and years after that, to my dad before he too passed away.

Mama had said, “You go out there, girl, and you let your light shine. You go out there, and you make it big.”

I swore to her I would.

Then, over the intervening decade as part of my grief became about earning awards and straight-As, about winning scholarships and seizing every opportunity that came my way, my dad told me he knew I’d achieve whatever I set my mind to. So to him, too, I vowed to be a success by going full-tilt after my dreams.

And I have.

I strengthened my resolve and figured it out. I also made it a priority to ignore the naysayers. Those energy vampires who enjoy sucking the life out of other people’s aspirations. To them I say, “Get your negative ass away from my positive energy, bitches.”

Bye, Felicia.

In fact, enduring backlash from the doubters and those not brave enough to dive into the deep end themselves has encouraged me to initiate a whole other venture. One that could be just as tricky as a fledgling business.

With red-tipped fingernails cut short—I use a soldering gun every day, after all—I type into the web browser of my laptop. Tingles of anticipation light up every single inch of my skin as I do.

This is even more risqué than selling clit rings for a living. But I’m sick of seeking something long-lasting and tangible only to be left disappointed. These creepy dating apps have given me nothing but a headache.

So, I’m seeking another alternative.

My BFF Andre Jordan provided me with the link to this deep web page, one that will only function if you possess the exact IP address to access it. I’ve had to jump through several hoops. I needed to prove that I would be making a sincere inquiry by agreeing to various background checks confirming my identity. Only after that had I been approved to enter the encrypted part of the site.

Now as I sign in using the facial recognition software I had to download, I scan the information on my screen. And it instantly makes sense that the site uses its own exclusive suffix that Google will never find.

Elegance: The Finest of Male Escort Services, the heading reads. Under this follows a description.

Need to hire someone of the male persuasion for a specific service? For an hour or even as long as a year? Would you like to mix and match services or add on something unique? We have the right listing or combination of listings for you. See our provided services* below.

*Please note: Prices do not include the fifteen percent commission required to use this site. Commissions will be collected once your escort(s) accepts your offer.

I scroll down. And down. Their list extends further than I ever would’ve guessed.

A subheading for Escorts shows hiring someone for a single function with pricing for either sex or no sex , engaging them for multiple functions ( sex or no sex) , and requesting a short term pretend boyfriend/husband/significant other, or a long term pretend boyfriend/husband/significant other, each—of course—with options for sex or no sex .

The pricing anytime sex is included is understandably higher. Often double the non-sex cost, but that doesn’t matter to me. I can afford it. And sex is precisely why I’m seeking out such a clandestine business in the first place.

I have a particular set of needs that I’ve found difficult to track down in the regular world. And while actual love and romance would be ideal, I’m a realist.

I get that what I’ve been yearning for and fantasizing about isn’t something that the average guy at a bar is disposed to entertain. So many of those guys are bad in bed or are delusional enough to believe dousing themselves in a bottle of cologne is a foolproof way to secure some ass for the night.

Or more often than not, they’re guilty of both.

Ask me how I know.

Even the men who have more than half a clue about how to pleasure a woman can’t do what I need them to do. Nor can they provide what I need them to provide. I’ve been looking for such a unicorn for ages. I’ve even run a few experiments.

All I learned was that the men I’ve been there, done that with are not up to the task. The old standbys of hooking up, talking friendly male acquaintances into becoming fuck buddies, and even—twice—attempting an honest to God relationship didn’t work for me.

With my entrepreneurial pursuits, I understood there would be a steep learning curve. Yet I could find resources to study and seek out others who’d succeeded and follow their examples.

But doing that in my dating life has turned out to be impractical, if not impossible.

Yet Elegance will allow me to explore some uncharted territory hassle free, to try before I buy. Since I can’t hunt down what I require out in the wild, maybe straight-up purchasing it is my one remaining option.

Yes, I get that this may be morally gray and borderline illegal. Still, I have to know if I’ve finally unearthed my own personal Rosetta stone. An avenue to the sexual fulfillment that’s eluded me up till now. Is this the answer or not? Only one way to find out.

Tapping my fingers along my touchpad, I drag the cursor lower.

Under Pampering are varying types of massage: reflexology, manual therapy, stone massage, shiatsu, aromatherapy massage, and Thai massage, all with either sex or no sex . There’s also bathing with sex or no sex and—get a load of this— feeding of all things.

Why do I get the impression that this is more likely to be some sort of indulgent spoiling rather than for someone who is disabled and might actually need such care? But who knows.

I’m not here to judge.

Next is the always useful completion of household chores, but my attention snags on the whole naked or clothed bit. Some nude-assed men vacuuming my living room, mopping my kitchen, and washing the windows could be fun.

Or maybe just funny. I’ve heard of cleaning services manned by shirtless specimens with hunky bods, but them scrubbing my tub-a-dub-dub while hanging brain is a new one on me.

Holding back my snort, I focus on what else Elegance offers.

I can have a fully trained in-house chef, a fitness instructor, a makeup artist, a stylist, and a manicurist/pedicurist. I skip past the Fetish section—nothing wrong with it, just not my thing—and scroll to the Entertainment tab.

Here we have performances designated as stripping, dancing, singing, providing music with an instrument (there’s a double entendre for you), and even a magic show, each with sex or no sex as a choice.

Wow.

The category is then broken up into even more detailed specifics. I can hire these guys out—Elegance refers to them on the website as freelancing contractors —for shorter time increments, too.

I could have them anywhere from thirty minutes all the way up to eight hours. Or for longer stints, I can hire a contractor out for a weekend, a week, a month, six months, or at the most extravagant price, an entire year. In these cases, the contractors will typically cohabitate with their clients.

AKA, moi .

Near the bottom of the page are customizable package deals. Beneath this it states that all contractors are required to undergo a thorough criminal background check and psych eval as well as a medical workup confirming that no sexually transmitted diseases are present.

All contractors must provide evidence that they are at least eighteen, written consent to any and all agreed upon activities, sexual or otherwise, and an NDA if the client requests it.

Good to know.

I can even check a box that’ll not only obligate my contractors to wearing condoms during every sexual encounter, they’d be individually responsible for providing them.

Nice.

Still, I skip that since I have an IUD. I upload my own test results proving that I’m negative for STDs, as well—Andre had warned me that they’d ask—then tick every box that’s applicable to narrow down my search. Another page opens. This one reminds me of a dating app but won’t let me interact with the profiles. Then, I notice the instructions.

For the safety and compatibility of everyone involved, a trial period of twelve to twenty-four hours is mandatory. If any of the desired criteria of the client fail to be met within this time frame, the contract will automatically be rendered null and void. Please choose how long you’d prefer.

A drop-down menu is situated underneath this paragraph, so I highlight twelve hours. I should know by then.

The swiping function becomes active, allowing me to swipe left to bypass a profile or swipe right to make an offer. There is a surprisingly large pool of contractors available, so I take my time.

Eventually, I decide, and this is the reason Andre told me about this site. It caters not only to those looking for straight or LGBTQ+ relationships, it also lets the client pick as many men as they want.

And I want three.

I need to determine if all the dreams I’ve had of multiple men in my bed are what it’s going to take to satisfy me.

If this goes well, my two-story colonial has plenty of extra bedrooms to accommodate them. That way, I can maintain my privacy anytime I might desire it.

Eventually, I narrow things down to Tristan St. Pierre, a dark-haired chef with a yummy looking five o’clock shadow. Noah Canter, a beefy blond firefighter with a youthful appearance. And Jackson McTierney, a bearded, tatted, long-haired musician with a sizzling smirk.

I highlight each profile and send an offer. After it’s done I blow out a long breath just as a message pops up, filling my screen.

Congratulations! You have chosen Tristan, Noah, and Jackson to be your contractors. We’ll be in contact shortly to tell you if they accept. Thank you for trusting Elegance, the male escort provider to meet your every need .