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Another flicker of annoyance crossed his face before he walked away.
I stepped into the bathroom. Holy shit. His guest bathroom was bigger than my bedroom. I studied myself in the mirror above the sink. I had a pinched look of worry on my face, along with a healthy dose of fear.
I took a deep breath. “You’re not afraid, Riley. Everything will be fine. Sure, you’ll most likely have the dick of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your mouth at some point this evening, but no biggie. You’ve sucked dick before, and at least this time, you’ll get more than bad tasting cum in your mouth and a sore jaw.”
My brain immediately shied away from outright acknowledging I was about to get money for providing a sexual service. I couldn’t blame it. It’s not like I’d ever imagined that I’d be a sex worker at twenty-five years old, but you did what you had to do for your family, right? And while my parents might be emotionally distant, they still loved me, and if the roles were reversed, they’d do whatever was necessary to save my life.
I quickly shimmied out of my panties and bra and stuffed them into my purse. I studied my chest, hating how droopy my tits were. I wore bras that made my large breasts look perky and perfect, and it was usually months before I let a new boyfriend see me walking around without a bra. It was much easier to make my breasts look good when lying naked in bed, not so much when gravity was actively working against me.
He’s not your boyfriend.
Inner Riley made an excellent point. This wasn’t a relationship. This was a job. If Mr. Steele didn’t like how saggy my tits were, he wouldn’t book me again. Simple as that.
Which means you’ll be stuck picking one of those stone faced angry men from Catherine and Celeste’s list.
I pushed that thought out of my mind and stood straight, pushing my shoulders back and telling myself it made my boobs look a little less droopy. I took a deep breath before whispering to my reflection, “You can do this, Riley.”
My legs trembling, I walked to Mr. Steele’s office. I left my purse in the hallway and knocked on the open door.
“Come in, Charlotte.”
I stepped into the room, studying my surroundings. Expensive looking art covered the cream walls, and a cherry wood desk with a leather chair sat in front of a large window. The far wall had a matching cherry wood filing cabinet and a bookcase stuffed full of books and nothing else. Mr. Steele was not a tchotchke kind of guy. Heat radiated from the gas fireplace, and the leather couch in front of it looked like it cost more than my car.
Across the room was a small writing desk with an accessory drawer and gunmetal steel legs. A leather office chair, smaller and more compact than Mr. Steele’s, was pushed up against it, and a slim black laptop sat on the shiny desk surface.
Weirdly, matching blue cushions sat on the hardwood floor just to the left of the door and beside Mr. Steele’s desk. Why would he have cushions on his floor? Did he like to sit on the floor like a little kid when -
The reason for the cushions washed over me in an instant, sending fiery heat to my cheeks and a weird pulse to my core. The cushions were for me, a kind gesture to protect my knees from the hardwood.
Another hot pulse went through my pussy. I would be kneeling for this man right here in the office while he called me his good girl and made me do things to him that I was embarrassingly excited about.
It’s fine, Riley. Everyone has kinks. It’s normal.
I realized that Mr. Steele was staring silently at me as I studied his office. Embarrassed, I said, “I like your office.”
“Thank you. In the future, when a play session has started, you will not speak unless given permission.” Mr. Steele stood from behind his desk.
Fuck. I was screwing this up already.
“Okay,” I said.
That now familiar annoyance appeared on his handsome face. “During a play session, you will refer to me as Mr. Steele or sir. When asked a yes or no question, you will respond with yes, sir, or no, sir. You do not respond with ‘okay’. Is that clear?”
Fuck me. Of course, he would want to be called sir. Was I deliberately trying to fuck this up?
“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.
“Good.” He joined me by the door and scanned my body, his gaze lingering on my breasts. My nipples were hard, more from nerves than lust, and visible through my white blouse. His dark eyes gave away nothing as he studied them. When I started to squirm, he gave me a sharp look. “No fidgeting, please.”
Embarrassed, I straightened my shoulders and stared across the room, keeping my body still. His deep voice made my insides flush with warmth when he said, “Better.”
He pointed to the cushion by the door. “On your knees, Charlotte.”
Oh fuck, this was it. I was about to have a stranger’s dick in my mouth. My legs trembling, I took a few steps to the cushion. I was completely thrown off kilter. I’d assumed Mr. Steele would have more rules than calling him sir and not fidgeting. I wasn’t prepared to go directly into the dick sucking.
My nerves got the best of me when I tried to kneel. Once I unlocked my knees, I lost all of my natural grace, and I looked like an unhinged toy falling onto the pillow. I pitched forward and caught myself with my hands on the hardwood. My face flaming red with shame, I straightened and stared up at Mr. Steele.
“Hands in your lap,” he said.
