Hire Me {Father Figure & AnnaBeth Belle}

[AnnaBeth]

"I know what this says," Doctor Vishwanathan said, holding up her tablet upon which Evie's medical and psychiatric records were displayed, "But how do you feel, Evie?" Doctor Vishwanathan, Dr. V to her patients, looked at the young woman clad in a disposable paper gown who sat on the edge of the exam table. To her eyes Evie seemed healthy, no more uncomfortable or self-conscious than anyone who was in an exam room felt, and certainly did not display any signs of psychological trauma. Dr. V's assessment was echoed in the digital records she'd gone through the night before.

"I've worked out the demons," Evie replied without any sense of self pity or remorse. "I'm off meds and I'm not having any mood swings or crashes. Sleeping just fine."

"And the cough?" Dr. V. asked as she placed a stethoscope on the younger woman's chest and then back.

Evie had worked herself into exhaustion with her last client and her immune system had all but shut down, leading to a nasty case of bronchitis and then pneumonia that had landed Evie in the hospital for a week. Fortunately her health insurance was able to cover most of the stay and Evie dipped into her savings for the remainder. "It only comes if I spend too much time spinning or jogging. I've really cut back and I've got the inhaler you prescribed."

"Your lungs sound clear enough," the doctor declared after moving the stethoscope around to Evie's back and demanding deep breaths. "Finish the antibiotics and no alcohol." Dr. Vishwanathan looked at her pad and scrolled a few items off the top and into the ether before setting it aside. "Okay, lie back please and put your feet in the stirrups. You-"

"May feel a little pressure and something cold?" Evie interrupted with a grin, already spreading her legs and working them into the awkward but supportive stirrups of the exam table.

"Don't be sassy," Dr. V. grumped but without any force to it. "And you're sure you're ready to go back to work?"

"Yes, Doctor. Ready and willing. Hire Me," she joked, referencing the internet based service she was listed with.

Hire Me. An internet based company with a constantly shifting set of shell corporations chartered out of countries of convenience. Hire Me was an escort service, a very high end one and supplied only girls to their clients. The girls abided by a strict code of confidentiality, backed up by the company's lawyers, and to date no client had ever been exposed or any of their personal interactions released. A client could engage the services of a Hire Me girl and never have to worry. A Hire Me girl could, and would, offer up any fantasy the client desired at any level of acquiescence or resistance to fit the client's needs. Hire Me even offered refunds of the client's fees if they weren't completely satisfied. Hire Me offered the ultimate in an escort.

If they could afford it. Hire Me wasn't cheap, it wasn't even expensive, it was select and if you had to ask what that meant you couldn't afford a Hire Me girl.

Less than an hour later the exam was over and Evie was back in her apartment. It was cozy, a nice way of saying tiny, but she'd used her earnings to decorate it in a light and airy fashion and she adored her bed built into the wall. Soft natural light filled the apartment from the south facing windows. She lived alone, no pets, knew her neighbors but wasn't social with them, and they all thought she worked as a site based installation supervisor for an industrial interior design company. It helped explain her long absences without worry, a nice fiction for a Hire Me girl.

After changing into a moonlight lace cami top and matching trousers from La Perla, Evie liked to be comfortable at home, she was on the love seat with her feet on the cushion in front of her and holding a big stuffed throw pillow against her tummy while channel surfing. There was so much to catch up on! Teen Mom, Chrisley Knows Best, and of course The Voice. Working a contract didn't allow her to keep up with her trashy TV but that's why they called it binge watching. Just as Maci was about to talk about Maverick, her second son with Taylor, Evie's phone rang.

Hire Me showed on the caller ID.

"Hello, this is Evie," she said smoothly, even though her pulse was speeding up. It always did when she got a call informing her there was a potential new client for her to consider. She'd never said no and doubted this time would be any different.

"Evie, we have a new client for you. You'll meet them tom..."

 

[Father Figure]

He looked at himself in the mirror and he hated what he saw. It was frightening how a person could self-loathe themselves, the myriad tangled mire of emotions that permeated their soul, but he was very sure he took it to a level that they did not. His features were intimidating, brooding, the look of intensity seeming to radiate from him as if he were a contained hurricane...one that happened to despise what they saw. In that mirror shown everything about him that he could never accept, the look of an older man, the look of someone who had never achieved the things he had hoped for in life. Family, love, money...they had all occurred, but it did nothing for him. No, deep down he knew he was a monster, that nobody understood him for what he truly was, and he couldn't accept that fact. It was something that he obsessed over constantly, the sincere knowledge that if a person came to truly know what was happening inside of his mind, what was swimming down in the depths of his soul...then they would never want to speak with him again.

He was perhaps insane.

It was a dual life that he led, hiding that fact from the other people around him and keeping himself focused and driven on the goals that he had set. That insanity shone with brilliance, a brilliance that shone throughout his life and allowed him to live the relatively comfortable existence he indulged in. Early mistakes had led to beginning to invest in real estate and that had allowed him a level of autonomy that many in their early thirties had been lacking, the ability to just not care about whether or not they were going to have money. There was always someone willing to rent, and he hated to say it but he became somewhat of a slum lord. He was not cruel to his tenants, he covered the repairs, but he understood the areas in which the houses he owned were...he had purposefully chosen them because of it. Buy a house for fifteen thousand, fix it up, rent it out for double the mortgage and pay it off. An endless cycle that had left him flush but like they always had said...money could not buy you love.

Maybe it could buy you peace however. He decided to finally put that money to use in a way he had never truly thought he would indulge in. Hiring an escort. He would never have considered it, never in his right mind, and yet he had been informed by a trusted source that this was something different...that the young women who worked for this agency had been vetted, examined, given medical passes and were known for discretion. That was something he had never thought of, a business that had decided to treat it truly like a business...even if it was illegal. He pressed his lips together as he adjusted his tie, thinking about it once more, about his requests and his needs and he sighed slowly. He knew he was insane to want such things, but God he just wanted to fucking...destroy someone. Everything about society told him he was wrong, everyone told him it was sick, and every moment of his life when he looked at a woman part of him was imagining brutally fucking that amazing flesh.

Well...perhaps this time he would actually get to do it.

 

[AnnaBeth]

Hire Me had a number of locations it used to arrange meetings of their girls and prospective clients. It was de facto, if not de jure, practice for a meeting to take place and give the client and the Hire Me girl one last chance to back out of the agreement. Contracts had been couriered over to both of them, already vetted by lawyers on the part of Hire Me and able to be done so by the clients if they wished, and there was boilerplate where each could ink in any special clauses that were necessary at the last minute. Each would sign, exchange and sign again and then once again couriers, extremely discrete ones that appeared and disappeared at the right moments, would take the copies and deposit them where each party had decided. For Evie, and all the other Hire Me girls, that was back at corporate. Her client was free to do what he wished with his copy. One had upended a champagne cooler and burned it right then and there she'd heard, to destroy his portion of the evidence. Tacky.

Tonight's location was an exclusive, very private restaurant in lower uptown. It was dim but not dark inside, everything washed shades of brown and lambent gold from the old fashioned lighting, and tables were solely for two. With plenty of space between them that the chance of overhearing conversations were already minimal, Hire Me still bought out reservations on all surrounding tables, creating a cocoon of intimate privacy for the meeting. Evie knew the client would already be there, something she'd insisted upon and likely one of the last such choices that would be allowed to her. It made her feel special that the man waited for her to arrive, and it also lessened the chance he would turn and leave at the last minute. Her dress was twelve thousand dollars of Valentino elegance, with a jeweled neckline and a nipped in waist that accented her figure. Evie's favorite part of it was the back lace panel that featured an elegantly winged bird flying over colorfully discrete flowers. It was lovely, one of her favorites, and Evie always took care never to spill anything on it, or let her client do so either. So far it had survived two and she hoped he would be the third. The dress was lucky, she thought, and was not so jaded that she didn't believe in superstition. The rest of her ensemble was coordinated to match, minimal jewelry, small diamond studs in her ears and a larger but not gaudy one on a thin chain about her neck. She even wore a wedding ring. It was a convenient fiction for many of her clients. If they were married themselves, she was either their wife or, if seen by someone they knew, it explained why they wanted privacy. If they weren't married it turned attention onto Evie, clearly having an affair, and drew scrutiny away from the client.

Clutch in her left hand, Evie walked slowly towards the table where her client sat. His back was half to her, allowing the woman to close the distance largely unseen. It was only in the last few steps that a reflection of her in the glass of a framed print allowed him to know Evie was there. Closed-lipped, her smile was warm and just a touch mysterious, but very welcoming. Under the fingers of her right hand the wool of his suit was warm and soft, though deeply textured in a fine seamless weave and she leaned in to brush his cheek with her lips, careful to not let her gloss stain his flesh. The scent she wore was Guerlain, Le Bouquet de la Mariee, intended for a bride on her wedding day and evocative of innocence and beauty, its complex scents of citrus and pink peppercorn meshing with sugar coated almond and vanilla beneath. Very few people wore it, fewer still outside of their bridal day, and Evie preferred it because it made her memorable to her clients. She liked to send them little notes during the relationship, actual notes on paper that she'd brush with the perfume, or with her wrist after dabbing it there. Likely they destroyed them but so long as they were received and remembered that was what mattered.

"Mr. Chase," she said as she stepped back from the kiss. "I'm Evie. Have you ordered for us already?" Clutch on the table beside her, she looked across the table, elbows on it and hands folded together with laced fingers that she rested her chin on, showing he was the most important man in the room, in her life.

 

[Father Figure]

Whatever she might take away from this it was most assuredly how terrifying he had looked when he first glanced up at her from the table. What had he been thinking when she approached him? He had been thinking about that contact he had signed and what it meant, what it hinted at being, and what it said he could have. He was already thirsting deep inside, little clawing hands raking at his mind's eye with the ideas of what he might be able to do with her. So many men might have the idea of some simple sensuality, some teasing bondage session, but not this one. No. This one was imagining forcing a huge toy up inside of a young tight little hole as the woman screamed into her ball gag, of face fucking her publically on the street, of taking her by the hair and making her plead to be a goddamned cum slut. It was terrifying inside of him and he could feel it building like a hurricane, the pulsing sound of his heartbeat roaring in his ears, and then her hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into her features.

His eyes were frightening.

Yet they softened when she kissed his cheek and there was nothing but an urbane gentleman that seemed completely in control of himself once she sat down across from him, but an intuitive individual could pick up on the false nature of that control. It was merely the control of his facial expressions, of his body language, something that must have been practiced time and again in the mirror. It was something he prided himself on, not just as a business man, but from years of training when he was in school and forced to endure the irritation of interaction with his peers. He had participated in extracurricular events such as Model United Nations, Student Congress, and Forensics. It had been a matter of studious nature to force himself to hide his feelings, because there was no possible way he could have functioned in the world if he had not been able to do so. So had those eyes truly softened? No, the truth was that he had shielded away those inner thoughts that she'd been privy just for an instance in seeing...the turmoil and roiling sea within his gaze.

He felt the kiss linger on his skin and took a moment to appreciate the woman that had shown herself, she was exactly what he wanted and there was little doubt of that, the agency had been extensive in their question of him. Dark haired, pale, exotic, and beautiful...it was enough to take any man's breath away from them. He savored the moment at getting to gaze at her in that way, like she was an object for him to appreciate, some place setting at the table that he could enjoy and for the briefest of seconds he entertained that idea...some idea from his past and it almost made him laugh. He remembered a movie, what in hell had it been called, where the man demanded the woman show him what she had worn beneath her dress...and the lady had taken her panties off and placed them on the table to pass them to him in front of all the other patrons in the restaurant. It was an entertaining thought but perhaps a tad bit cliché and so he sat it aside as he replied to her.

He gave a small self-deprecating smile at the question, whatever the reason was that it tickled him, it obviously did and he spoke plainly. "No, I haven't. I didn't quite know what you would've liked to eat. While I can appreciate the...arrangement and that you are here to acquiesce to any desire that I may have, I also prefer you to enjoy what you are doing. So, pick and choose from the menu, the time for me to make decisions will come soon enough...don't you think?" The question as rhetorical to be sure, but he raised an eyebrow at her as his full lips pressed together, growing serious as he considered her. "I know what the contract said, I know what the agency says, but how about you...what do you say when it comes to this arrangement?"

 

[AnnaBeth]

Evie kept his eye all throughout Mr. Chase's opening lines, as he turned her own opening against her. It was far harder than she thought for while Evie was no stranger to looking into a man's eyes, Mr. Chase's were positively terrifying. One of the things that made Evie a fantastic escort was her ability to fall into the emotions, the feelings that her clients desired to see in her. It was something like being a chameleon, she often thought, only instead of color she matched what her client wanted Evie to feel and how he wanted her to react. It was why she had taken a full course of treatment between clients last time, needing quiet and careful therapy to bring her back to her base mental state. The client's needs from her had been so mentally and psychologically demanding that her body was ready to go again long before Evie's soul was. This man, Mr. Chase, Evie knew immediately that the terror she felt run it's dead hands up her spine was exactly what he wanted. Demanded. Would have at any cost.

But not yet. Not...too soon. His was the long game, and while he would have her screaming, it would be when he wanted and at no other time. So though she felt it, and it showed in the way her eyes widened so much that the black of her pupils threatened to spread to the very edge, Evie didn't bolt and flee the predator that sat in front of her. She stayed, accepting what was going to happen, and he knew it.

"I say," she turned her head as the waiter approached, relieved at the excuse to look away from those terrible orbs for a moment, "that I'll have the lapin," Evie pronounced it the French way. "The wild mushroom fricassée compliments the rabbit so well that I want to order it every time I'm here. I'm sure I will the next time as well." Evie sat back to let the waiter place the napkin in her lap, to fuss with glasses and such, and for Mr. Chase to order and the waiters withdraw.

"I'm terrified," she admitted but with such poise and calm that only he could tell the truth. It was evident in the frightened deer flutter of the pulse in Evie's throat, and in the way her left hand trembled. "But I'm not afraid and that's not the same thing, is it? Whatever you wish, Mr. Chase, I can take. And I will take it until I can't take any more and then I'll still take it until you're sated and stand there heaving over me."

"And then you'll leave. No remorse, no guilt or shame, just a deep calm at having slaked your most singular need on me."

"You may be my last client," she admitted, and the wine in her glass made circular ripples across its surface as her trembling hand set it in motion to her lips. "You'll break me," she predicted.

"I hope you can afford it."

 

[Father Figure]

He was not used to being read in this fashion and for a moment he was just as frightened as she was. To be so vulnerable, revealed, opened for another human being was not an experience that he enjoyed and his features grew still, not a muscle moving on his face as she spoke her final words. That stillness was not meant to frighten her, it was not meant to be intimidating in the slightest, it was just the outermost expression of his own internal fears and failures. A psyche that struggled constantly with the allure and desires, the wants, and to see himself so blatantly known when he had hid all of this for decades from the people around him. It bothered him, deeply, and he tried to find the words to reply but found himself flailing just the tiniest of bits. It reminded him of when he was young, a child in elementary school, and how he had stuttered and curled his r's. Having to go to speech therapy several times a week, having to try to communicate with his peers and failing miserably. He felt like an idiot.

Affording it was not the problem.

He started to speak and then paused when the waiter returned to provide them water and a basket of bread. That look on his face of consternation, that he had been thrown off kilter just the tiniest of bits still persisted, but it was being pushed down below the surface like a sinking ship. By the time that waiter had stepped away he was in control once more, but control for this man meant something wholly different than in a normal individual. That control was the thin ice that covered the roaring waters beneath it and he watched her like the starving man that he was....desperate for the feast. With her words she had offered him everything he could have wanted in a human being, a woman who was willing to throw herself beneath his hands and serve him in a way that none had before her. It frightened him just as much as it frightened her and that was the real problem and the one which made him more than just hungry, it made him angry.

He hated looking like a fool, looking like an idiot, like some weak thing and that is how he viewed his instability. It made him feel like a beggar to want the attention of a woman such as her and that kind of thought process was not something he would stomach. His hand on the table slightly curled, almost a claw, not to hit...no, he would never hit a woman unless it was an actually required act of self-defense. Any pain he inflicted was of the sexual variety, never the violent. No, that curling was to bring pain to himself...digging his nails into the palm of his hand. It reminded him of the moment, to calm himself, to regain that control...and he did, suddenly, like a light switch being turned on and that slow self-deprecating smile returned to his face. This man hated himself...and somehow that hate allowed him to fuse together a personality where none should. As he often had stated to friends the key to truly being a human being was one very simple rule....get over yourself.

His words were calm, smoothly spoken, and arrogant in the demand. Considering he was about to be obeyed, perhaps the arrogance was deserved. "Spread your fucking thighs. I don't care if it gets us kicked out, or who sees you, or what you chose to wear. Show me what is mine."

 

[AnnaBeth]

Control so tightly applied, so rigid, could hold back any amount of desire, of deep need and the attendant emotions through any amount of pressure, of hammering, and be deemed unbreakable. Yet the tension deep inside, the tension that made the mass of it so strong and resolute, could undo the man if just a tiny bit of shearing force was applied to an area far, far away from the main well of emotions. Evie had unerringly found that point, her ability to be an emotional mirror guiding her to his weakness and snapping it.

And so, like twisting the tail on a Prince Rupert's drop, Evie shattered Mr. Chase's barrier and a lifetime's worth of held back desires, dark desires, broke him from within just as he intended to break Evie. The outpouring of it slapped into Evie's soul, and she gasped from the intensity of it even though Mr. Chase never raised his voice, never did anything more than briefly contort his hand on the table top. The blood fell out of her face, becoming corpse pale before slamming back in so hard with the next hammering heartbeat that it made her head throb and Evie's skin to take on a feverish glow. The hem of her dress slid off her knees, up her thighs, and her fingertips gathered it in uneven folds that were sure to leave wrinkles. Stocking tops were revealed, clipped to slender ribbon garters, and then Evie's black panties with a sheet front chased with trailing vines that almost hid her naked, hairless smooth sex. It was already wet when she hooked a finger under the edge of the crotch and pulled it aside, showing Mr. Chase her pouty, flushed lip.

"Oh, excuse me," the waiter said, having walked back up on them to see if they needed anything. He caught the view of Evie's cunt full on, only slightly less well than Mr. Chase could see it, and he stopped.

Evie turned to look at him, face equal parts stricken and pleading for his help, that he step in and rescue Evie from the monster that had just bought her. The hand that held her dress up let go, about to reach out for him, and the hem of her dress fell almost enough to hide her body.

"Please," she whispered.

 

[Father Figure]

"Get the fuck out of here."

The words were said with a brutality that was uncommon, the smooth voice holding an edge to it that harkened to something a bit more primal than mere animalistic. It was an edge that showed he was capable of doing far more than merely causing a ruckus with the restaurant's staff. It was the underlying promise that if the waiter didn't go fuck himself that this man would more than likely ensure he would suffer. There was no need for bravado in the statement, no need to assert himself for egos sake, it was as if he was stating a universal law to the other man. You play with my property and I will show you what a true man can do. It spoke on the instinctual level and could be seen in the nonverbal stance of her client. The way his hands had come to the table and were resting there, fingers lightly touching the cloth as if they were claws, the intensity of that gaze and the muscles tightening beneath his jawline. There was nothing human in that gaze any longer, she had shown him what was his, but it was far more than that at this point.

In doing so she had agreed...it was his.

He stood at that point, the cold dignity showing in his frame, the hunched shoulders turning him into a predator that was hunting and he moved forward to break that line of connection between Evie and the waiter. It was a subtle reminder as to who was in charge in that moment and it sure as hell was not this pathetic excuse for a servant. Her client looked even more deadly as he stared down at her, his large frame emphasizing the muscles that still lived beneath his heavy set exterior, the lights giving a menacing halo around his form as he cast a shadow down upon Evie. He could have reached down and manhandled her completely, could have hurt her though it would have drawn more attention than they really needed...the time for hurting would come later. No, he merely looked at her and then he reached out and touched her face. It was a slow touch, a caress across her cheeks and he smiled that small knowing smile and he whispered.

"You made a mistake and I forgive you. Apologize to them, apologize for the slut that you are and ask me to take you home. I understand that you can't stop yourself...," his voice trailed off as those eyes searched hers. There was something brilliantly alight in them, the terrible knowledge that made him very aware of all the horrid words he was saying and more than that...the impact of them upon her. Perhaps she had offered herself, perhaps she had contracted, perhaps she was getting paid...but nothing was going to prepare her for the mental domination of this man. The long game...he would have scoffed if he had known she had thought such words. This was more than the long game....this was going to last forever.

 

[AnnaBeth]

"I'm sorry," Evie stuttered out, voice heavy with humiliated shame. The waiter was hidden from her eyes by Mr. Chase's body, the same body that had seemed handsomely composed and perfectly at ease with itself moment before and that now stood between Evie and the world like a monster cutting off all escape. Her sex still bare to the room, Evie's words continued to tumble out, driven ahead of her thoughts by Mr. Chase's awful presence. "I'm sorry," she repeated, more strident this time. "I'm sorry that I'm a slut, a stupid little slut who can't help herself when I'm around Him." The way she pronounced him left no doubt who she meant, there could only be one person that pronoun was meant for. "He...He is the only one who can control me. Make me this way," she confessed and Evie felt her pussy contract strongly so intense was the emotion. "Please," she whispered, only to Chase this time. "Please make me stop and take me home. I need you to make me stop," she said and her finger slid along the folds of her sex, parting the lips to half shroud the digit. Even in the dim light of the restaurant the sheen of her arousal was evident.

The waiter fled, leaving Evie and Mr. Chase alone, his body sheltering, or perhaps hiding her, from the other restaurant patrons. Almost, almost she stayed there, played the frightened submissive and just waited, but Mr. Chase needed more than that. He needed push back. Evie stood, dress falling into place but her panties awkwardly bunched to one side underneath. Her finger was shiny and left little glitter trails on the black fabric as she smoothed it down. The faint scent of her body, of her suddenly made slutty cunt, was obvious to both of them. Evie stared at Mr. Chase, then turned and walked away. Not through the dining room, not towards the front doors, but towards a short corridor that led from near the kitchen to the alley outside, intended for deliveries. The panic bar on the door stuck and then broke free as she pushed hard on it and stumbled into the rough, dim alley, brick walls of old buildings on either side and the sour smell of trash in the air.

 

[Father Figure]

Where in God's name did she think she was going?

He watched it almost in a detached fashion as she stumbled away from him, trying desperately to hold on to some measure of her dignity. Not that she had any left after what she had openly said for him. Said...she had gone much further than that hadn't she, that was the wonderfully thrilling sick part of it. She had not just said what he wanted of her, she had shown him flesh, ran her fingers over her sex, and even rolled her own hard little clit. It had been evident how incredibly aroused she was and no matter what she might have said, he could even see that sweet cream on the fabric of her panties. To say that she had driven him to madness was a weak attempt to communicate how she had made him feel. His cock was throbbing hard, viciously so, tenting up the front of his pants in an obscene fashion. Yet there was no time for play now was there, no, not when her cute little ass seemed driven to get as far away from him as possible. Yes, he felt detached, like this was surreal, as if none of it made any reasonable amount of sense...and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt this attracted to a woman.

He casually trailed after her like some serial killer in a horror movie. His long legs and steady strides kept pace with her panicked scrambling. There was the fact of the people in the restaurant, he had noticed some of their startled glances and more than that their frightened handling of their phones...they very well might have had the police called upon them. He was not worried necessarily, the contract he had with her and her employer explicitly kept him from being culpable concerning their endeavors as long as what he was doing with her was not illegal, however....there was no need to draw attention. Attention might make it to the wrong people and he had a career to think of, a life to think of, and he was not someone who enjoyed dealing with fallout. He was someone who eliminated the variables to minimize any impact on his life from the choices he made...and look at him, chasing after her, and hardly avoiding the potential disaster that she represented for him.

He needed to get her out of there.

His hand caught hold of her arm and he jerked her hard, his voice vicious and clipped as he pulled her body against him and he whispered. "Fucking get ahold of yourself. You've bargained yourself away, so why are you running from it. Do not ever make me chase you again." His eyes glittered there in the dark entry of the alleyway, staring down at her as he felt her trembling form against him. His free hand came around to cup her ass, digging his fingers into her young flesh as he searched her eyes and he smiled, the slow smile of a predator who understood everything when he held his prey hypnotized. He leaned down to kiss her lips just slightly, softly, and frighteningly knowing in his skill at enticing a woman. Those lips of his were full and soft, the beard slightly scratched on her skin, and there was little doubt that he knew how to use them to full effect...yet it was his words that were the horrid piece of this particular act.

"Shhh, you don't really want to run stop, now do you?"

 

[AnnaBeth]

"Let go of me," she said, trying to sound firm and confident but the barely audible tremor under her words made them both realize Evie was anything but. A jerk failed to dislodge her arm or even move Mr. Chase's arm. It was as if he was a statue, carved in terrible dark marble around her, trapping Evie in an eternal grip. Again she jerked, this time remembering tips from a women's self defense class, pushing out against his thumb, trying to roll it backwards with her motion and either painfully twist it or even break it to make Mr. Chase's grip falter. The only thing that happened was Evie shook herself harder than before and the small diamond on the almost ephemeral chain around her neck flashed in fleeting brilliance as its facets caught and reflected the light from the end of the alley. Already she could feel the bruise that was going to be on her skin come morning, put there more by Evei's own futile attempts to get free than from any cruelty in Mr. Chase's grip. Evie's chin trembled as she stared up at him, held as much by his casual strength as his will. "Is this what you want? Here, in this shit smelling alley? You want to force me up against the bricks and grind my cheek bloody against them as you fuck me from behind?"

Evie managed a sneer. "I thought you were different. I thought you had control and a plan. A mind that was worth it behind those eyes. You're just like all the rest of them, aren't you? So soft and simple in your desires that once sated leave you feeling tired and guilty. You can't control me even if you can hold me. Let's get it over with," she said, forcing herself to stay brave, to keep her eyes on Mr. Chase's. "Come on. I'm already wet because of you. Don't you want to fuck me? Slide your cock inside my wet, slutty cunt and cum? Come on then, get it over with so I can go find someone really worthy of my time." Evie dropped her purse and her phone tumbled out of it to lie face up in a puddle of juice from a leaking dumpster. She reached swiftly for Mr. Chase's pants, palm caressing where she thought his cock would be and fingers trying to find the zipper. "Come on," she challenged again. "Pull it out and I'll jerk you off until you blow your load onto the concrete where it belongs with the rest of the trash." Not even Evie herself knew if she was trying to provoke her client into doing just that, into losing control, or if she really wanted him to show her how truly dark his mind was, how sick and strong his desires would be if he'd only give up the veneer of the respectable man and let loose the animal inside.

 

[Father Figure]

"Get ahold of yourself."

His voice was brutal, a dash of cold water in the heated moment between the two of them. There was a look of distaste on the man's features as she acted like a rutting little animal and he couldn't help but feel a measure of displeasure. He knew what she was attempting to do, he could feel it like he could feel so many other things, and while the offers and the ideas were tantalizing...the approach was not. She was hoping to push him, to find him, to sound him out...like a foray in a military conflict. Of course he was a man and the lewd words and motions of her body, her hands willingness to grope at the front of his pants and to attempt to wrap her fingers around that thick cock was more than enough to harden him fully. Yet once more, this was not who he was and she would have to come to terms with that after she was done with her little powerplay. He on the other hand was more than capable of maintaining that iron clad control, even in the face of this debauchery, though there was the briefest flash of anger at her hint that he was like other men...he would never be content to be lumped in with the beta males of the 21st century.

However, there were other things to worry about. After the problems in the restaurant he knew that far too much attention was being paid to them. There was little doubt as to the feeling of power she gave him in her actions, but he would have it on his terms and not hers, and so the hand upon her arm tightened just the tiniest of bits before he pushed her away and towards the ground where her purse and phone lay. It was a casual shove, done with the ease of manhandling an unruly pet, and perhaps he felt of her in that fashion...he after all had paid for her, did he even consider her a human being at this point? Or merely an object that he could pick up and admire before breaking. Those lips pressed together as he looked down at her, having not expected this night to take a turn in this fashion...no, he had to admit, he had not expected that in the slightest. Was he disheartened by it? Was he displeased? Even he was not necessarily sure.

Stepping away slightly and out of the alleyway his hand raised to signal for a cab and as the yellow car rolled up and looked and the drive looked at the two of them he finally spoke to her, the voice of his quiet and maintaining his cool demeanor even after the look she had briefly seen upon his face. "Come on Evie, get your stuff and crawl in the cab, we'll talk on the way home." It was said with in a purely conversational tone, as if all of this had been as right as rain and even more than that...there was an undercurrent of indulgence, as if he was humoring her for her poor behavior and giving her that second chance that he would never have given another woman in his life. His hand touched the door and opened it, holding it there for her like he would for any other woman, save that this one was laying on the scummy ground of the alleyway.

 

[AnnaBeth]

Twelve thousand dollars of Valentino ruined by Mr. Chase's casual strength, an expression of his contempt for Evie's performance. Still something had gotten through, had made him feel an emotion besides those which he allowed himself. In a tiny way Evie had broken Mr. Chase's control, made him dance a stuttered, almost imperceptible step to her tune and that alone made her worth every dollar he gave Hire Me. Even though she lay in the alley with the rest of the filth and cast off trash Evie had worth far beyond her disgraced dress. What other woman had ever been capable of making Mr. Chase crack, even a little bit? Like melting snow she'd seeped into the tiniest of openings then frozen, exerting a small but irresistible force against the brittle armor Mr. Chase wore and managed to spall off a bit of it. In time, if she had time, Evie knew that her talents, her rare and unusual ability, would allow her to worm completely beneath his shell and...

And what? Evie wasn't sure, and that was unusual and far more upsetting than the bruise she felt forming on her ass or the shredded bit of pretty lace she'd heard tear when she fell. Doubt, crushing and as heavy as an avalanche, roared over Evie's soul and shattered her confidence, her poise. It was entirely her ability to match the emotions her clients demanded, but the knowledge of it and the experience of it were less twin tails of a single beast than entirely separate ones, each divorced from the reality and realization of the other. Every bit of her survival oriented mind demanded she cast if off and walk out of the alley, abandon the contract and be safe but Evie could never do that, not to Mr. Chase. For just as her ability to feel what he wanted made it better for him, the fact that she was up against someone she might not be able to beat, to win against sexually or emotionally, made Evie stay in a sick sense of competition and desire to prove herself worthy of Mr. Chase's time.

Of his dark attentions.

More lace tore and she felt something slice open the skin of her knee as she crawled towards the cab. Dirt and grit, rough and sticky, coated her hands and dress as the yards narrowed to feet, then inches and she was on the threshold of the door Mr. Chase held open for her, the very picture of a man of breeding and genteel manners. The wool of his trousers was soft and smooth against her cheek, her bare shoulders and the contrast of how it felt compared to the ground, the contrast of his position standing over Evie in her humiliation made her head roar with pulsing white noise. If she stood up, she'd be disobeying him; crawl into the cab had been his order, so Evie crept into it like a dog loading itself into a car. Only when she felt her legs clear the threshold, hands on the vinyl mat coated floor of the cab, did Evie get up and sat down once again like a real person on the seat. A ribbon of scarlet made black by the light coursed from the cut in her knee and fell in almost silent patters onto the floor mats.

Evie met the driver's worried eyes in the mirror and returned his look with a hard edged one above a smile. The dissonance of it made him look away, to not want to question what just happened or why a woman in a dress that cost more than he made in months crawled across an alley that smelled like the filth that now coated it sat so prettily in the back next to the man who'd made Evie debase herself.

Evie looked over towards the open door Chase still held open. "Coming, darling?"

 

[Father Figure]

A wry grin of humor touched his face at her demeanor, a look of teasing in his eyes as he moved to slide into the car next to her. The man's frame was powerful and the presence of him finally in close confines would be enough to remind the young woman that he was more than capable of having her right there if he wanted to engage in it. Yet that was the point of it all wasn't it? The idea that he had paid for her and could have her in any fashion he so chose? He didn't bother to look at the driver, merely giving the man the address to an upscale hotel and his hand came over to touch her leg. It was a possessive grip, but one that was no longer as cruel as had been indulged in earlier. This was more territorial, a sign of authority, and the fingers slid along her thigh and towards her knee until he felt something sticky. He was an observant man, but in his heady lust he had kept his eyes on many things...but never her knees. His fingers raised and he blinked down on them to note the blood, his gaze going slightly wide.

She had hurt herself.

He had noted it but not the severity and there was for a moment a look of consternation and compassion on the features of the man she was with, a sign of humanity after all. Concern was there but more than that perhaps a measure of surprise that she had done such a thing, that she had hurt herself in her pursuit of pleasing him. It was interesting the thrill it brought him that she had been willing to do so, but it was not something that he had expected...and he realized deep down that he had not wanted it, no matter what fantasies played around in his head. His eyes turned to look at her as he pulled out a handkerchief, not taking the time to clean his own hand but instead taking it and placing it against her knee in order to apply pressure. Oh he had definitely enjoyed the look of defilement, but deep down he was not a man who wanted her to suffer...no, deep down he wanted her to revel in the defilement as he did. His fingers pressed hard against the knee, soaking up what blood there might be as he gazed down at her.

"You could have left, you know that, we both know that...but you haven't, and that's a choice. Choices are what make us human, they are the compromises of the soul, and no matter what anyone says...that is the playground we engage in. I am no rapist, no sexual predator, but I am a corrupter. Women have hated me in life because of that, because in my presence they have given me everything I wanted...of their own free will." His eyes were solemn as he spoke the words, as if her act of humiliation had pulled out that piece of information for her and her alone and he shook his head. He had no idea why he wanted to be understood by her. That alone was the true nature of what she had done, she had wormed beneath to find something inside of him, and in the moment she had seen something human in him...he had recognized her as more than just a plaything to be discarded. His hand gave a final flex on her knee as he pulled it away, letting the cloth stay in place as he watched her.

"Why do you do what you do...Evie?"

 

[AnnaBeth]

Warmth from his hand lingered in the handkerchief and she pressed it with her own to help the cut clot more quickly. The sting of it hadn't really been felt so much as noticed when it happened. Either the glass or whatever it was had been too sharp or the space in her head to which Evie had sent her conscious, non-working girl self had simply been too far away for the sensation to be perceived as pain. It did sting now and she thought there was still something in it, dirt or grit, but cleaning it now was not a concern. The reaction Chase gave was a concern, the concern, and Evie didn't know if she'd misread him or if there was so much of him buried, stuffed down deep by years of denial, that he wasn't even aware on the subconscious level what he wanted. Honoring the contract, being the best Hire Me had to offer to him, was going to be incredibly difficult. Evie had never had this feeling before with a client and it was shaking her confidence.

Confidence returned slightly, like a sip of water when you were parched, when Chase showed himself to be no different than most of her other clients. They all wanted to know why she chose this job, why she traded her time and looks and conversation and sex for money. Many of them wanted to save her in some sort of Pretty Woman fantasy. They didn't know Evie had more money tucked away than that, a lot more, and in just a few years was going to be able to leave the Hire Me life behind - if she wanted to.

"No one asks an architect who designs beautiful buildings why she does what she does. Or a doctor who sacrificed marriage and dating and kids until late in life why she made that choice to heal people. Do you think anyone asked the maids at the hotels why they clean rooms and pick up wet towels and strip cum stained sheets all day? Did you? Or did you just leave a tip out of some sense of it's what you do and felt vaguely guilty about the mess you left behind?"

Orange light from passing poles washed her face and made the blood coming through the handkerchief look like chocolate sauce. Evie looked down at it then pulled the handkerchief away with a slight wince as it stuck to the nicely forming clot before pulling free. When she looked back at Chase she folded it up and tucked it in his jacket pocket, heedless of the chance her blood might ruin his suit. Quid pro quo perhaps.

"I have a gift, a talent, and I've got youth and beauty and my figure and a pretty good brain holding it all together. I could use that to set myself up as a trophy wife and never have to worry about anything again. I do what I do, I'm a high dollar whore, because I like it. I like the challenge of seeing if I can read my client and give them what they want so well they'll never forget me and I'll be immortal in their mind. I like the money and the life it can bring me. I like sex and I'm very, very good at it. I'll be the best you'll ever have," she said with confidence. "But those are all rational reasons. Those are...justifications. Excuses I suppose."

The car turned onto an on ramp and got up onto the expressway that would drop them at the hotel in a few miles. Orange light gave way to the merciless white of newer LEDs, washing her face out like a puppets.

"I'd do it for free if I had to. I'm addicted to the emotions, to the roller coaster of them and to the stunning highs and the heart shattering lows. I'm able to lose myself in my client's fantasy and they give me feelings that I could never have on my own. The joy of guilty betrayal as a father takes his daughter. The good girl swept away by the skill of her new lover and experiencing a real orgasm for the first time. The loving wife turned out at a business party to further her husband's career. The struggles, the submissions, the dirty sex and the sweet sex and the sex that defies and defiles."

Evie crossed her legs and let her dangling toes trace Dr. Chase's calf. "I do it because I've always dreamed of meeting someone who could make me feel things that no one else can, who can finally get inside to the real me and shatter her so I will finally know what it feels like. It's a high I chase and I've never found anyone who could take me there. There's always a part of me that stays rational, in control, even when I'm sobbing on the floor and he's standing over me with a belt and I'm begging him to stop. I always can see out past those terrified eyes and stay in control, even as I let the rest of me play the role."

"I need someone who can take that from me and let me really feel instead of almost feeling."

Evie smiled and crossed her legs the other way, slim thighs parting to show Chase what he'd bought before closing up again and hiding her silk covered sex from his eyes. "Why do you care?" It was as much challenge as question.