Three Hard Lessons Read online

  chapter

  ONE

  Fuck this noise.

  Traffic on Lake Shore Drive was the worst I’d ever seen. I should have known better than to try it on Black Friday. Even though I was nowhere near Michigan Avenue, it was a parking lot. I glared out over the lake and turned away from the blinding sun that was sinking in the sky to my left.

  My phone chimed with a text and I glanced down at the screen. It was my best friend Evie.

  Well, that’s just great. I texted back that it wasn’t a big deal, but I was lying. I’d been looking forward to going out for drinks with them the whole week. Ever since Evie and Logan had gotten engaged, I’d been seeing less and less of my best friend. I was happy for her, though. Logan was a great guy. He was hot, hung, and head-over-heels in love with her.

  I drummed my manicured nails on the steering wheel of my Jaguar, stared at the taillights in front of me, and considered my options. No way was I going to spend the night alone at my place.

  Joseph answered my call immediately.

  “Hey, honey, what’s up?” My manager’s voice was soft and pleasant. He was always so good at making me feel special and anything but another working girl.

  “My plans fell through. Can you put me on the list tonight?”

  “Of course.” There was a rustle of paper in the background. “Should I call Mr. Red and let him know you’re available?”

  Ugh, no. “Don’t do that.”

  “Oh? Do we have an issue?”

  “Someone else needs to take him on as a client. He’s getting attached.” Joseph knew I didn’t do attachments. Mr. Red had money, and I liked money, but there wasn’t enough in the world to allow me to get tied down. Well, figuratively. Money got me tied down at the BDSM club I worked at all the time.

  “Mr. Red is particular, Payton,” Joseph said. “He’ll be difficult to persuade to try something new.” There was an unfamiliar weight to his voice. Was it fear? “He’s also a powerful man.”

  That wasn’t surprising. I’d figured Mr. Red was a major player when he talked about owning half the city, and this was while I had my lips wrapped around his cock.

  “He asks me to come home with him afterward. Every. Single. Time.”

  “A beautiful woman like you probably hears that a lot.”

  True, but still. “He says he’s in love with me. I’m telling you, he’s going to turn ugly when he doesn’t get his way. I need distance.” He sure the fuck wasn’t going to get what he wanted from me. I wasn’t capable of loving him. I was fairly certain I was incapable of loving anyone.

  “Claudia’s a lot like you,” Joseph said. “Maybe I can give him some incentive to try her.”

  “Thanks,” I said, sincere. I knew Joseph was in a tough spot. We’d had plenty of clingy clients before, but not one with serious clout.

  “You don’t have to thank me, honey. I’m excited you’re coming in tonight. But fair warning, it’ll probably be slow.” This was his subtle way of telling me to take the offer when I got it, because there might not be another client interested.

  “It’s not slow when I’m around,” I said, an evil grin twitching on my lips. Traffic was finally starting to ease and my foot found its home on the accelerator.

  “No, Payton.” He laughed. “It certainly isn’t.”

  Joseph had chosen Nina to be my sales assistant for this evening. Like Scarlett Johansson, Nina had a husky, deep voice that sharply contrasted her petite and undeniably feminine frame. She was a blonde like ScarJo sometimes is, too.

  Pairing Nina with me made us an unstoppable force. Someone was going to blow a lot of money tonight, so at least my evening wouldn’t be a total bust.

  The silk robe came off my shoulders and I caught it in a hand, then carried it to the hook on the back of the door. Room One looked just like all the others. Black textured fabric stretched across soundproof tiles that covered the walls and ceiling, and the absence of color always drew my eyes up to the elaborate crystal chandelier over the table in the center. The intriguing and reinforced fixture was the only light in the room and also pulled double duty. There were plenty of places to hook handcuffs or leather straps onto the iron arms buried beneath the clear prisms.

  Nina waited beside the table for me to join her, a pleasant smile on her face as her gaze washed over me. “God, Payton, what I’d give for your tits.”

  A soft laugh fell out of my mouth. “Please. I’ve seen you naked at least a dozen times. What I’d give to have that ass.”

  “It’s easy. Pilates,” she said, “until you’re so sore you can’t move, and when you attempt to, you want to die.”

  Like Nina, I was a total freak about staying in shape. Joseph had a light hand about our figures. One of his girls would have to lose quite a bit of tone for him to say something, but the truth was we all wanted to look our best. Someone you’d pay top dollar for. And of course, there was healthy competition between us. I’d like to think I had the best rack out of the group, and we were all natural. Maybe I had the best legs, too. I was slightly taller than average and the phrase “legs for days” had been thrown my way a few times.

  As I sat down on the leather-cushioned tabletop, I tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. I contrasted nicely with Nina’s blonde as I was a brunette. My hair color was too dark to really call auburn, but subtle hints of red came out in sunlight, or now in the low, chandelier glow of the room.

  The black leather squealed against my bare skin as I slid down to lie flat on my back. Even though the tables were identical in all six rooms, this twin mattress-sized table felt softer than the others. Nina passed me the black blindfold and I hurried to slip the two elastic straps over the back of my head. A tug brought the blindfold down over my eyes, and I descended into the familiar darkness.

  My breath picked up. Not with excitement for whatever the person who came in was going to do to me, but with hope. Hope that the thrill of doing this would return. It’d been at least two months since I’d felt anything more than mild interest during a session. I’d been seeing Mr. Red almost exclusively. Maybe that was the cause.

  Nina gently took one of my wrists in her hands and set about securing the satiny straps around it.

  “Ready?” her smoky voice asked.

  “Yeah.”

  She took my other wrist by my side and wrapped the Velcro closed, securing me to the table. I tested the restraints, which only allowed a few inches of movement, and Nina must have been satisfied because she spoke into her earpiece.

  “Room One is ready, you can send the client in.”

  Her heels clicked across the floor as she went to the white wingback chair perched in the corner of the room. She probably wouldn’t be seated for long, unless one of the girls in another room had an appointment with a member. Joseph didn’t allow more than one client in the hall at a time for the client’s privacy.

  Blindfolded and strapped down, I was left with nothing to do but think and wait.

  I was kidding myself about my loss of interest being tied to Mr. Red. I didn’t want to admit what had happened when I asked Evie and Logan to share their bed with me two months ago. It had been fucking amazing, and insanely hot, but it had started a slow burn in me that I could not put out.

  I had no regrets about what happened, and they didn’t seem to either, but . . . fuck. I wanted what they had. Their connection to each other. I wanted a bond to another person that was so strong, nothing could break it.

  Even as Logan was with me, it had been all about her. I’d been the appetizer to her main course. I needed someone to look at me the way Logan looked at her. It dominated my thoughts when it should have been the men I was servicing.

  So now all I could do was hope the man who walked through the door tonigh
t would make me feel something again, and if not, that he’d distract from the powerful loneliness threatening to consume me.

  The door creaked open and there was a sound as Nina rose to stand.

  “Good evening, sir.” God, her voice was sexy. “Please, come in.”

  Heavy yet hesitant footsteps approached, but stopped several feet away from the table, followed with a sharp intake of breath.

  “This one,” Nina continued, “is our club’s finest.”

  “Holy shit,” a deep, male voice rang out, filled with appreciation.

  “Is this your first visit?”

  His hurried breathing was nice to listen to. I liked the power I held, how the sight of my naked flesh had affected him.

  “Yes,” he uttered on a breath.

  “Don’t be shy. You’re more than welcome to look, and I’m sure she’s eager to meet you.”

  Yes, mystery man with deep pockets. Come closer. Will you challenge me tonight?

  One footstep. Another. The heavy breathing was nearby now, and I pictured him standing right beside the table, looming over me.

  “How did you hear about this place?” she asked.

  “Another customer . . .” He trailed off like he was having difficulty focusing. Good. Let him be distracted while we negotiated the purchase price.

  “A referral? That’s great. Are you originally from Chicago?”

  He paused. “Milwaukee.”

  “Oh, no.” Her voice was heavy with fake dread. “Don’t tell me you’re a Packers fan.”

  Shit. We had code speak, and talking about sports meant my potential client was attractive. Attractive men shelled out less money on average. Football also meant he was late twenties or early thirties. Wealthy, young, and attractive men didn’t need to come to the club. Not unless what they wanted was exceptionally taboo.

  “I don’t get a chance to watch American football.”

  His deep voice had a delicious roughness I liked, and for a moment I didn’t catch the implication. American football. Why would someone who grew up in Milwaukee refer to it that way? He sounded like a foreigner.

  “That’s too bad. The Bears might make the playoffs this year.” The room fell quiet, and tension sprang up, winding tighter in the silence. I knew what she was going to say next. “Would you like a taste?” Nina purred.

  “How much?” I couldn’t tell for certain, but he sounded nervous. Like someone who wasn’t willing to part with his hard-earned money easily.

  “The taste is complimentary, sir.”

  “No, I mean, how much for all of it? For her?”

  He was going to skip over the sample and get right to it? I struggled to keep myself indifferent while I silently pleaded with Nina not to start too high. He’d freak and bolt. She hesitated. I’m sure she was trying to find the right balance.

  It came out shaky and unsure. “Thirty thousand.”

  Holy mother of god, Nina! Way too high.

  I wasn’t supposed to speak, but she was going to blow this sale, so I ignored the house rule. “Wait, sir, she meant–”

  “All right,” he said in his rough but calm voice. “Thirty grand it is.”

  chapter

  TWO

  Stumbled footsteps in heels rang out, like his words had literally knocked Nina back.

  I was grateful to be on the table, but I jolted against the straps in shock. He didn’t negotiate. Was he not aware this was like buying a car or jewelry? You don’t ever go with sticker price. Well, there was feeling in me now, all right. Terror. What the fuck was this guy going to do to me that he was comfortable dropping that kind of money?

  “Thirty grand,” Nina’s voice rasped as she repeated it, stunned. “Uh, excellent. Great.”

  I could practically hear the gears in her head churning. Was she trying to find a way to get him to negotiate higher? This unprecedented event had us both scrambling.

  “Thirty thousand dollars,” she echoed again, and it sounded like she’s barely left off the phrase, “You’re sure?” I had to get her out of here before her babbling brought him to his senses.

  “Thank you, Nina,” I said. Hopefully my dismissive tone wasn’t lost on her. Brisk and sharp footfalls away from me announced it wasn’t. I let out a breath when the door shut, leaving me alone with the rough edged voice I liked and the worry I did not.

  In the quiet, my trepidation built to a level I couldn’t control.

  “Are you still there?” I couldn’t hear him breathing anymore.

  “Yes, sorry. I was looking at this, um . . . menu.”

  The willing list. The menu was set up on an easel in the back of the room. It was everything I would allow my client to either do to me, or was willing to do to him.

  “There’s a lot on here.” It didn’t sound judgmental, which was good. He was the one who just agreed to pay for pussy—or whatever else he wanted—so he had no room to be judging anyone.

  I controlled my voice. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  There wasn’t anything on the list I was opposed to, obviously, but there were a few things I hadn’t tried before. Some were the silly ones like diapering, but some were the scarier ones like autoerotic asphyxiation.

  “Kissing?”

  Oh. “You won’t find that on the menu.”

  “Because it’s a given?”

  “It’s not allowed.”

  He exhaled. Was that a sigh of disappointment? “A club rule?”

  “No,” I said. “Mine, sir.”

  “What happens if I break your rule?” He asked it plainly, like he was concerned he might do it.

  I paused. It had happened before, and I had the fucker thrown out. Breach of our totally illegal contract and all. But thirty grand made things different. I was basically the star of this club and received the highest percentage off my deals. I’d be netting ninety percent of that thirty grand, or ninety percent of zero if I wanted to be inflexible on this.

  “I suggest you try very hard not to.” I didn’t want to have to cross that bridge.

  “What if I want to hold your hand?” His voice was casual.

  I couldn’t wrap my head around that concept. “You want to hold my hand?”

  “I noticed that’s not on the list either.”

  Was he fucking with me? “If you want to hold my hand, sir, you can do that.” It would be awkward as hell, but whatever.

  “Dom,” he said.

  “What?”

  “My name. It’s Dom.”

  Of course it is. “Okay. My name is Sub.”

  “Sub?” This voice was confused. “Is that short for some–? Oh, I get it. No, my name really is Dom.”

  His cold, thick fingers touched my wrist and I startled.

  “Sorry, may I touch you?”

  He’d just agreed to pay thirty grand to do a helluva lot more than touch me. My teasing personality slipped out before I could stop it.

  “Anxious to get to the hand holding?”

  There was a half-laugh from him as he undid the restraint around my wrist, Velcro peeling open with its scratchy, tearing noise. As soon as it was free, footsteps took him around the table to the other side where he freed this wrist, too.

  Okay, now what?

  I lay motionless on the table, waiting for his command. I had to remind myself he was new to this, and obviously shy. Most guys were on me the moment the sales assistant walked out of the room, some even before. I wasn’t sure I had the patience to deal with a timid client, but the money promptly told me to shut the fuck up.

  “Dom? You need to tell me what you’d like to do.”

  “Oh. Can you, um, sit up?”

  As I did, there was a rustle of clothes. Good, he was getting undressed. Once the clothes hit the floor I could get this show on the road. The cool fingers closed on my hand, lifting it off the leather.

  Right away I could tell his goal wasn’t to hold my hand. Warm fabric lined with silk slipped over the skin of my forearm, traveling upwards. Holy sh
it. He was putting some sort of suit jacket on me, the one he’d probably just taken off.

  “What are you doing?” Again, I wasn’t supposed to ask questions, but this was disorienting.

  “I’d like to talk, and this is the only way we can do that.” The jacket was around my shoulders now, and he urged my other arm into the empty sleeve, pulling the front of the jacket closed. “You are way too distracting when you’re naked.”

  The sleeves of his jacket were well past my fingertips, so he was probably tall. The warm, slippery fabric felt wonderful on my skin, and the manly scent of cologne clung to his jacket. Shit, he smelled good. Focus, my brain ordered. He wanted to talk, and that idea was scary. I could do all sorts of things he’d like, but conversation? That wasn’t one of them.

  We lapsed into silence. For wanting to talk, he was doing a shitty job of it.

  “Are you nervous?” I prompted. Maybe he was having a hard time getting it up. “Do you want me to go down on you?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “I . . .” Breath left him in what sounded like a frustrated burst. “I live in Tokyo.”

  Um . . . kay? He said it like that could explain what his issue was. Was he Japanese? Was this a culture thing?

  “Have you ever been?” he continued.

  “To Japan? No, but I’d love to. I lived in the Netherlands for a semester, but I stayed in Europe. That’s the farthest east I made it.”

  “What was that like, living overseas? Did you like it?”

  I did. That night in the red light district had shown me not just what I was interested in, but what I was so very good at. “It was fucking awesome.”

  “Did you ever get lonely?” His voice was low, which intensified the gravel in it. “Did you feel like an outsider?”

  I shook my head. “In Amsterdam? Nope. I was staying at an international dorm, though. We were a stoned and drunk version of the UN.”

  His silence drained the memories of my wildest times away. I turned on the table to face his voice, letting my legs dangle over the side.

  “Japan is . . . not welcoming to foreigners.” So, he wasn’t Japanese after all. My hand not holding his suit jacket closed was flat on the leather beside me, and his fingers brushed up against mine.