Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
KIT
“A ny questions about the project, Dr. Plier?”
“Please, it’s just Christopher.” Or Chris or Topher or even Kit, which I’ve already told Ashton Holyfield twelve times since he hired me to study his staff’s mental health at Crystal Bliss Retreat.
I guess when you’re the grumpy-as-fuck billionaire owner of a chain of luxury resorts, you call people whatever you feel like calling them.
Holyfield clears his throat. “I want to make absolutely certain employees within the Jilted Brides Honeymoon Club system are satisfied with their jobs, their pay, and their overall well-being.” His forehead furrows. “You understand it’s a delicate situation, given the services they provide.”
“I do.” And his concern for the staff is admirable, so I cut him some slack on the name thing. “I feel confident I’ll be able to extrapolate a solid set of data by the conclusion of the assignment.” That’s a whole lot of words to say what I really mean. “Serving alongside sex workers as a member of the team will allow me to not only conduct the research you’ve hired me for, but to give my first-hand impressions of the working conditions.”
Holyfield nods, appeased by my answer. “I’ll leave you to your training then.” He glances at Kora Neville, my manager here at Crystal Bliss. “Please inform me immediately if any employees express concerns with the study.”
“Yes, sir.” A dark shock of hair slips from Kora’s tight ponytail and she smooths it back. “You’re not requiring anonymity around this, correct? If anyone asks about Dr. Plier’s?—”
“Topher,” I correct. “In my role as a sex worker, that’s how I’ll be listed on the menu.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Kora offers an apologetic nod. “Your study and your role here are not anonymous, but employee feedback will be, correct?”
“Correct.” That’s how I insisted we roll out this study. “They can know the nature of my research and why I’m here, but I’ll protect their right to privacy every step of the way.”
It’s also why I really need them to stop calling me Dr. Plier. I might not be anonymous, but I’d rather not be me . At least not for the next few weeks.
“Very well.” Holyfield turns for the door. “You know how to reach me if you need anything. I’ll expect daily reports.”
He exits before I can say that’s what I’d planned. This might be one of the most unusual assignments I’ve taken in my career, but I plan to handle it with the utmost care and transparency.
“Okay.” I turn back to Kora, who sits ramrod straight at a bank of computers. “Where were we?”
My manager tips her head to the laptop in front of her. “We’d just finished the first training module for new consorts at Crystal Bliss.”
That’s what I am. A consort.
It’s a fancy way of saying “sex worker” or the person tasked with satisfying the desires of resort guests. The Jilted Brides Honeymoon Club has its own bizarre language, and I can’t quite decide how I feel about it.
“Got it.” I get my head back in the game. “I’m impressed by the expansiveness of the menu.”
Kora lights up like I’ve complimented her personally. “While our primary goal here is to satisfy guests, we pride ourselves on selecting team members who truly enjoy the experience.” She must be concerned I’ll say something negative to Holyfield.
But everything I’ve observed so far points to one simple fact: Crystal Bliss Retreat takes good care of its staff. And guests, obviously. But my job here is making sure workers are happy.
“May I ask if employees are?—”
“Consorts,” she corrects, and I nod.
“Consorts.” It feels cheesy to say it, but I get why they do this. It adds an exotic ring to the role. “Consorts are given the option to rescind consent at any time, correct? Say, for example, a consort agrees to a certain type of bondage or group sex act, then changes their mind or doesn’t feel like performing the service.”
“Enchantment,” she says, and I blink.
“Enchantment?”
“That’s what we call all our services at Crystal Bliss. Guests book an enchantment .” She’s perfectly straight-faced as she says it, so there’s no telling how Kora feels about the resort’s lingo.
“But to answer your question,” she continues. “You’re correct. Consorts are allowed to change their minds at any point. They can also turn down any enchantment that doesn’t feel right to them.”
I tap out a note on my tablet, then set it aside. I’m here to be trained as a consort. Most of the time in this office, I won’t wear my shrink hat. This is where assignments get doled out to sex workers.
Consorts, I mean.
“Did you have more questions?” Kora asks.
There’s one that’s been tickling my brain for over a week now, but it’s something I’ll ask in this training.
Why can’t I stop thinking about Eve?
It’s silly, I know. I spent one afternoon with her—one amazing, hot-as-sin afternoon and evening—and I can’t get her out of my mind? That’s nuts.
But my one-time fling is the least of my manager’s concerns. By the time I’m done here, I’ll have plenty more flings. Dozens, in fact. Maybe hundreds.
It’s literally my job.
I clear my throat. “The restaurants and spa facilities are open to guests and consorts alike?”
“Correct. Also the beaches, the private boat shuttle to nearby islands, and all of Crystal Bliss’s pools.” Kora looks out the window at one of the shimmering pools overlooking a white sand beach. Palm trees sway on a Caribbean breeze, and a hint of calypso music slips through the closed office door.
On a chaise by the edge of the pool, a bikini-clad blonde takes a slushy blue drink from a shirtless guy holding a tray. Off to the side, a woman sits topless as two muscle-bound men rub her shoulders with sunscreen, their hands drifting lower and lower. I watch as they work to the mounds of her breasts, kneading and teasing as her lips part in a breathless O .
A third woman sits tucked in a corner by a palm tree, her tanned thighs splayed open on a sun bed. There’s a blonde woman kissing her ankles and calves, moving slowly up her legs. The guest threads her fingers through the blond woman’s curls, tipping her head back in ecstasy.
“Is she a guest or a consort?” I point to the woman on her knees.
“That’s Sybil. She works here.” Kora’s gaze lingers on the pair. “It’s not uncommon for guests to enjoy each other’s company, but in this case?—”
“Sybil’s assigned to fulfill the guest’s fantasy.”
“Correct.” Kora nods. “Many of our guests have exhibitionist desires. Some women wish to explore intimate attention from another woman.”
From the look on her face, the guest enjoys it quite a lot. “And some like to blend bi-curiosity with exhibitionism?”
“Precisely.” Kora’s eyes shift back to the laptop screen. “Any questions about our menu?”
I scan the long list, impressed by the huge range of options. There’s an entire section dedicated to sensual massage. Another category for roleplay fantasies. A whole list for bondage, and one filled with tamer selections. Foot rubs with optional add-ons. Romantic dinners with under-the-table teasing. Even a beachfront brunch with a musical serenade, which isn’t within my wheelhouse of skills.
Before I arrived, I filled out an endless array of forms, checking boxes for services I’m willing to provide. I could also exclude assignments I’m not game for. There weren’t a lot on the won’t-do list. I want the full consort experience, and there’s not much I won’t try when it comes to sex.
“Topher?”
I jump at the name. “Yes?”
“Any further questions?”
“Can you go over how consorts are assigned to each guest?”
“An excellent question.” Kora toggles to the guest-facing portal. “It typically depends on the fantasy she selects.”
“So each guest might be—pleasured—?” I struggle to find the right word.
“Enchanted.” Kora smiles.
“ Enchanted .” God help me with this jargon. “Each guest may be enchanted by any number of consorts?”
“Correct. For many guests, variety is the goal of their time at Crystal Bliss.” She gives me a thoughtful head tilt. “Others feel more wired for monogamy, given their circumstances.”
Circumstances.
A broken engagement, which is how most guests wind up here. It makes sense that a woman who was recently prepared to pledge loyalty to one partner might still prefer that, even in a place like this.
“We do have guests who settle on a single consort,” Kora continues. “They find someone they like and request him or her for the duration of their time here. But in most cases, our guests seek a more… varied experience.”
“That tracks.” I’m getting the hang of the system now. “Do guests select from a menu of consorts first, or are consorts assigned to the enchantment?”
“Also an excellent question.” Kora turns back to the laptop. “A few days before arrival, each guest fills out a questionnaire. Personal tastes, special fantasies, hard limits and curiosities. We use that information to assign consorts to each chosen enchantment.” She pulls up a guest’s full profile and nods at the screen. “For example, here’s a guest arriving today. If you look at this field here, you’ll see her list of specific desires.”
I peer at the screen and read off the typed lines of text. There’s basic info like preferred massage pressure— firm —and bathwater temp— between 98 and 100 degrees. There’s a section for sexual adventures she’s tried in the past and would like to sample again— threesomes with two men— plus new things she’d like to explore while she’s here.
It’s a damn impressive list. Whoever this woman is, she’s looking to try lots of things while she’s here.
“I see the guest’s room number, but not her name.” I peer at the top of her profile page. “What do I call the guest if there’s no name attached to the file?”
“Another good question.” Kora toggles to the top of the screen. “Many of our guests have privacy concerns. Trust issues, if you will.”
“Understandable.”
She looks pleased I get it. “They’ve done all the requisite health screening, signed forms, and reviewed our non-disclosure pledge, but they’re still reluctant to disclose personal details.”
That tracks, too. “I guess ‘hey, you’ can do in a pinch?”
Kora gives me a tight smile. “In this case”—she tips her head back toward the monitor—“the guest ticked boxes for ‘ma’am’ or ‘mistress.’ Those are acceptable ways to address her. Others select pseudonyms, or there’s the occasional cheeky guest who chooses honorifics like, ‘your majesty’ or ‘empress.’” Her smile takes on an amused tilt. “Generally speaking, most guests will disclose their real names in a day or two. It’s our job to create a safe space so they feel comfortable sharing.”
“That makes perfect sense.” I watch through the window as a muscular man with a U.S. Marine Corps tattoo on one shoulder strides past the pool deck. He waves to a trio of women gathered poolside, his long, relaxed stride showcasing the goods as he flashes a smile that spells sex. I give the guy mad props for it. All the consorts I’ve observed seem confident and comfortable in their skin.
“I read that all consorts are paid identical wages, but am I remembering correctly that special requests get a bonus?”
“That’s right.” Kora’s smile turns a little bit saucy. “Consorts with particular talents get assigned more frequently.”
“Got it.” I already know Crystal Bliss employs more than five-dozen consorts. Not all at once, and some cycle in for only a month or two. There’s another Jilted Brides property somewhere in the Mediterranean, but for now I’m just hired to study this one.
Kora squints at the screen. “Oh, wait.” She taps a few keys. “This guest arrived early. Looks like she caught the first shuttle boat.”
I glance back at the profile we’d been studying. “She’s here?”
“She checked in a few hours ago.” Kora scans through the profile again. “She’s already requested her first service.”
“What is it?” I peer at the laptop, trying to make out the order. “Private outdoor massage?”
“The Bliss Kitty Sensuous Surprise.” She clicks some more keys, then turns to size me up. “You fit her profile nicely. Would you like to make her your first guest?”
A tiny thrill rolls through me. I’m ready for this. Ready to shake off lingering thoughts of Eve’s smooth skin.
“Anything special I should know?”
Kora scans the page. “Looks like dirty talk and praise kink are listed among her turn-ons, but she’s requested no talking for this service.”
“Is that common?”
“Very. Especially when guests first arrive.”
“No talking at all?”
“You can ask if the pressure’s too light or too firm. If she’d prefer music or the sound of the ocean.”
“She just doesn’t want small talk.” That makes sense. Massage is about relaxation.
Massage with a happy ending, though?—
“She’s included some notes about what sort of sexual stimulation she welcomes with this enchantment.” She turns the screen so I can read it better. “Oral’s allowed if she requests it, but no p/v penetration to start. Be sure you review all the file notes.”
“Of course.” I scan through the checkmarks on the screen to make sure I know all her limits.
Kissing of neck and shoulders? Allowed.
Fondling breasts? Allowed.
Massaging of buttocks? Allowed.
Digital penetration? Allowed.
“Okay.” I sit back in my chair as a fizzle of excitement rolls through me. “Where am I going?”
“Room twenty-four.” Kora goes to a cupboard and pulls out a key card. “You’ll be enchanting this guest on her private balcony overlooking the sea.”
“Got it.” I admired the balconies on my orientation tour, impressed by how they’re each angled to preserve privacy while showcasing scenic views. “Massage table’s set up already?”
“It’s being arranged now. The guest will be draped for modesty to start. You’ll begin with her shoulders and back.” She hands me a gadget that looks like a regular phone. “Your Crystal Bliss pager for further instructions. You’ll keep that for all resort communications and assignments, plus chats with guests.”
“Got it.” I pocket the device.
“Massage supplies are in the cupboard. You’ll be paged when she’s ready.”
“Sounds good.” I peel off my shirt, since I already know I’ll be bare-chested for this.
Kora hands me a bottle of oil to rub on my pecs and abs. “You feel ready for this, Topher?”
“Absolutely.” I’m glad she’s not calling me Dr. Plier anymore.
Kora smiles. “Let’s start this guest’s stay with a blissful beginning.”
“And a happy ending.” I grin at the cheesiness of it, even as desire rolls through me. It’s an uncanny thrill. “I’m on it.”
* * *
A warm ocean breeze licks my arms as I step onto the sun-dappled balcony. The guest lies on her stomach, facing down in the massage table’s cradle. It’s angled to give her a glimpse of the sea, and her dark hair’s been pinned to the top of her head. A crisp linen sheet covers her from the waist down, revealing a flawless bare back.
Giving this massage won’t be much of a hardship.
Since it feels weird not alerting her I’m here, I offer a one-word greeting. “Ma’am.”
“Hi.” She murmurs the word and that’s it. No small talk at all, which is fine. I already know she’d like the sound of the ocean, rather than music. I read up on her preferences, including which massage oil she prefers. It’s a light, citrus fragrance made with all-natural ingredients, safe for oral, anal, and vaginal use.
The Crystal Bliss team thought of everything.
After coating my palms with the oil, I begin by massaging her shoulders. Her deltoids and trapezoids are a tight mess of knots, and she groans as I work out the kinks.
“That feels good,” she murmurs, startling me.
Do I respond? “Glad to hear it, ma’am.”
I work my way down, the tips of my fingers grazing the sides of her breasts. I take my time teasing, brushing the edges of those soft, luscious globes before easing away to knead the tense knots in her back. A little work there, coaxing the tension from traps bunched up tighter than twine. Then another light brush of the sides of her breasts.
The guest makes a soft sound of pleasure. “God, you’ve got great hands.”
I know I’m not supposed to talk, but her profile did specify a fondness for dirty talk. Also praise kink.
So I take the risk. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but your breasts are fucking magnificent.” As an afterthought, I add, “Ma’am.”
A laugh bubbles out of her, then stops as I glide down her back. “Oh, God, there. And thanks.”
For a little while longer, I work on her lower back. The heels of my hands turn her tight knots to putty. After a bit, I lean in to trail my pecs down her back.
That earns another groan of pleasure. “Fuck, you’re good.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. “Your skin is flawless.” I’m breaking the rules, but so what? The guest seems to like it. “Touching you is a pleasure.”
“I’m glad someone thinks so.” Her shoulders tense up. “Sorry, I’m being pathetic.”
“Ma’am?” I’m not sure what to say.
“Nothing. Just—my asshole ex fucked my cousin.”
I start to say sorry , but that’s not what she needs. Instead, I opt for the truth. “Any man who wouldn’t spend every second of his day worshiping this beautiful body doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve you .”
She laughs as her muscles go pliant. “Thanks.” There’s another soft moan as I work my way lower. “That means a lot from a guy who touches women for a living. Even if you are paid to say it.”
“Trust me,” I murmur, grazing her ass. “I’d pay you to have my hands on your body. And I’m actually paid not to talk.”
She must recall then what her profile says. “I like your voice. Especially when you’re saying nice things.” Her self-conscious giggle turns to a moan as I work lower into her glutes. “You sound familiar.”
“I get that a lot.” The rasp I developed two weeks ago from my cold has vanished by now, thank God. I sound like myself again.
But now that she says it, she sounds familiar as well. It’s tough to tell with her face aimed down in the massage table’s cradle, and so many American accents sound familiar after my years of living abroad.
I’m kneading her glutes now, squeezing the lush cheeks of her ass. “How’s this pressure?”
“Good.” There’s an intake of breath, then her thighs inch apart. A sign she wants more?
I’ll get there. The buildup is part of the experience. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got the perfect ass?”
She laughs and her legs shift a little bit wider. “You’re a charmer. That feels amazing.”
“Good.” Gliding my palms to the backs of her thighs, I gently nudge her legs further apart. The view from above steals my breath. Her pussy lips part, slick with arousal. My cock throbs, but I order myself to stay focused.
This is about her.
It’s not really a hardship, either. Her skin feels silky and soft, warm from the tropical breeze. The orangey-bright scent of massage oil swirls with the smell of the ocean. There’s laughter two stories below us, and soft moans of pleasure from a balcony to the right. We’re not the only ones enjoying ourselves.
No one can see us up here, but the sound of arousal stirs something inside me. Does the guest feel it, too?
My hands work her inner thighs, teasing her adductors with my thumbs. The guest whimpers, so I keep going. As the tip of one finger skims her slippery cleft, she jerks.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispers, then giggles.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, just—” There’s a meaningful pause. “I like it.”
That’s pretty clear. Her pretty pink lips part like petals, inviting me to keep going.
So I do. With the tip of one finger, I tease open the seam of her sex. She’s so fucking wet I can hear it. Plush, swollen lips part to welcome me. She tilts up her hips, granting me access to her clit.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Good girl.”
She shudders and spreads her legs wider, ass tipping up off the table. My thumb swirls that sweet, swollen bud and she moans. “Oh, Jesus.”
God, she’s turned-on. Which is turning me on. Have I ever been with a woman so…responsive?
I order my mind not to stray to Eve. To that Portland hotel room just over a week ago. It’s been too fucking long since I felt that kind of desire.
Stop thinking about that.
This woman’s right here, her ass arching up off the table as I roll that tight little bud under the pad of my thumb. She moans and grinds into my hand.
“Lift up,” I murmur, grabbing a bolster from the caddy and slipping it under her hips. I watch as she settles and sighs. “Better?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Good.” I’m dying to taste her. To suckle this sweet, swollen bundle of nerves. She’s riding my hand, urging me to keep touching.
The guest booked two hours, and I’d rather not rush it, but her soft needy moans say she’s ready for more.
Gliding the tips of my fingers through her slit, I let my thumb sink inside her. She moans, and I do it again. In and out slowly, then tracing a path to her clit. I use her arousal to paint slick little circles, making her moan with need.
“Oh my God, please don’t stop.” She’s panting now, her perfect flesh flushed with desire. She spreads her legs wider, opening herself up for more.
I push all the way in, burying my thumb to the knuckle. As I pump a few times, her liquid heat clenches around me.
“ Yes .” She drives her hips back, fucking my hand now. She’s so goddamn eager for more.
I draw my hand back and the guest gives a sharp gasp of protest.
“No,” she gasps, wiggling her hips. “Don’t stop.”
“Not stopping.” I fucking love how eager she is. “Just adjusting.”
Rolling my wrist, I drive my two longest fingers deep into her. She gives a sharp cry as I plunder this sweet little channel. I’m strumming her clit with my pinky and ring finger, learning the angle she loves.
“Oh my God.” Her hands bunch the drape that’s slipped off to the side, balling it up in a fist. She’s gasping and twisting and fucking my hand like a queen. Ocean waves crash in the distance and the scent of arousal fills my senses.
“I’m close,” she gasps.
“Come for me, sweetheart.” It’s blowing my mind that she got here so fast. As her slick walls contract, I watch her whole body tense like a perfectly played harp string.
“Oh, fuck.” She cries out and bucks off the table, fucking my hand in a frenzy.
“That’s it.” Strumming her clit, I nearly come in my pants.
Watching this woman unravel on my fingers feels insane. The clench of her pussy and her hot, hungry cries—it’s fucking mesmerizing.
“Good girl,” I murmur as aftershocks rock her slim frame. “You come so prettily on my hand.”
She gives a soft moan of pleasure, her body wrung out on the table. She’s panting and twitching, face down in the cradle.
“Holy fuck,” she breathes “That was wild.”
Something in her voice catches my ear this time. A familiar lilt. A sweet little hitch I’ve heard somewhere before.
But no, that’s impossible.
Drawing my hand back, I glance at the clock. We’ve still got an hour to go. Enough time for me to taste that sweet pussy. To make her come on my face at least once or twice, those delicate fingers bunched in my hair.
“If you’d like to turn over,” I say softly, “we’ll continue the massage.”
Grabbing the drape where it’s crumpled at her hip, I pull it up to help shield her. Privacy seems like a moot point now, but it’s more about respect. I cast my eyes down to be sure she won’t roll off the table. My gaze skims her ass as she turns.
That’s when I see it.
The dark swirl of ink at her hip. A Celtic symbol.
The sisters knot.
I must make a sound because Eve lifts her head. “Is everything okay?”
Everything happens in slo-mo.
Eve turning to face me, her green eyes lifting to mine.
Eve bolting up straight, her pretty face flooding with shock.
“Oh my God.” She blinks in the bright glare of sunlight. “Kit?”
Waves shush the shore as a seabird calls in the distance and laughter rings out from the café below.
But here on this balcony, with Eve splayed out naked and tousled and lovely, it’s all I can do to stay upright. To drink in her gaze and the sweet slope of flesh as I nod.
“Eve,” I squeeze out as my throat fills with sand. “It’s you.”
“It’s you .”
We stare at each other, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. Then we both speak at once.
“Holy shit.”