Void (4 page)

“So you are falling into bits of depression because you feel like you are alone?”

She stared at me out of the corner of her eye, watching my reaction and assessing her next choice of words.

“It is my husband’s requirement that I come here, Andris. He doesn’t like me to be unhappy, and in return, he gets what he wants.”

I looked down at her file once more.

Spouse: Antonio Cardinelli
.

Now it fucking clicked, I sighed in frustration. No wonder my uncle insisted that I take this specific client on personally.

“I take it you just put two and two together, Doctor.”

Fucking great. The Stepford housewife in front of me was the wife of the man that my uncle got the family and the clinic involved with. He was also the man that I was determined to get away from.

“I guess you could say that.”

She rose from her seat and walked over to the shelf that aligned one wall of my office and housed a majority of books, novels, and research intended documents. Brushing her hands on the leather bound rows of printed work, she paused when she pulled one out and opened up the binding.

“And you also must know that there are certain…
arrangements
between our families?” She asked, pausing to look over at me before snapping the book shut and not batting an eyelash.

“I’m well aware of the arrangements, yes.”

She walked over, the stealthiness of a jaguar in her pristine steps as she rounded my desk and sat her perfectly rounded ass on the edge, and crossed her legs in front of me. Her black skirt slid up the creamy space of her thighs as she settled one hand on the hard, smooth wood of my antique desk and lifted the other to adjust the tie at the base of my neck. Picking up the silk fabric, she allowed it to slide trough her fingers before letting it come to rest on my chest once more.

“So, you realize all this psychobabble bullshit is unnecessary? I don’t need you to analyze me, Doctor. I just need you to give me what I came for.”

She brought a delicate hand up to hold my chin as she pulled at my lip with the pad of her thumb and allowed her nail to lightly scratch the skin. She smiled, grinning slyly from ear to ear before she turned my head sideways and leaned in to whisper into my ear.

“I’m glad you understand the circumstances between us. I think I am really going to enjoy our
sessions
together.”

Her warm breath passed my ear, causing a small shiver to course through my body. My dick sprang to life as she used the very tip of her tongue to trace the sensitive flesh of my earlobe.

“Mmm. I am so very glad you are replacing your uncle. Fucking him was becoming a bore, but you? I think I will rather enjoy this. Now write me what I need, get me the package, and I’ll be on my way.”

She pulled away from me and rounded the desk to retrieve her purse. I once again clicked open my pen and wrote out her demand on the prescription pad sitting in front of me. It went against every moral bone in my body to do what I was about to do, but I had no choice. Antonio Cardinelli was not a man to fuck with, and apparently neither was his young wife.

After slapping my signature on the dedicated line, I tore the page from the pad and handed it to her. She once again rounded the desk and placed her hands on either side of the arms on my chair, leaning in so her tits were directly in my face. The smell of her expensive perfume filtered through my nostrils as she brought her face close to mine.

“Thank you, Andris. Help me make my husband happy, and I promise to help make you…
happy
,” she said, reaching down to palm my dick and balls, stroking me through the dark fabric of my suit pants. An involuntary hiss passed my lips. I’m a man and, morals or not, a fucking sexy as hell woman was cupping my fucking package. Any normal male would have had the same reaction that my traitorous dick had.

She kissed me on the corner of my mouth, the sweet smell of cinnamon coming from her breath, before she let go of my cock and pushed instantly away from me and turned around to walk out of the office. Pausing at the door, she turned around and winked at me.

“Until next time, Doctor.” Then she walked out.

I don’t remember how long I sat there staring at the door after she left. What the fuck just happened? My dick was so hard, it pressed against the seam of my pants in a painful protest to break forth from its confines.

I picked up the phone, dialing the same number I had called for several years whenever I needed a release without the dreaded complications of commitment. She was fabulous and always gave me what I needed, whenever I needed it.

And right now, I needed her.

I SAT SILENTLY IN the back of the car as the world around me passed by. My driver had long gone silent, leaving me to stew in the backseat with wonder and curiosity as to where I could be going. Five, ten, maybe twenty minutes passed by before the car finally came to a stop. Honestly, I didn’t care where the fuck I was, as long as that four grand was in my pocket when I left wherever the fuck it is that I was.

My door opened, and the cold air from outside filled the cab and caused a chill to come to my body.

“Miss Lane, take my hand, please,” my driver instructed. I reached through the darkness of the blindfold to find my purse lying on the seat next to me. I extended my hand to him and felt the warmth of his engulf mine as he assisted me out of the car. Looping my arm through his, he guided me alongside of him into the coolness of the night before opening the door to a building and entering. I tried to pay attention to the noise of my surroundings, but was met with nothing but silence.

We walked quietly through the building, the clicking of my heels and the pitch of our breaths the only sounds I could hear. When I heard the familiar ding of an elevator, my driver guided me into the waiting car and my stomach ticked as the car began to ascend floors.

“I know I’m not supposed to ask questions, but may I ask your name?”

He thought quietly to himself for a few moments as the elevator continued to rise. Just when I didn’t think he would answer me, he leaned in and whispered into my ear.

“You can call me Sinclaire.”

I let out a slow breath, praying that he didn’t feel my body tremble when his warm breath brushed my ear. Being with old man Patterson earlier had left me wanting an orgasm so badly I could taste it on the tip of my tongue, and for some reason, this dark haired stranger’s close proximity was sending confusing signals straight to my clit that was now buzzing with anticipation for what was to come. At least with the blindfold in place, I wouldn’t have to see the asshole who was about to fuck me for four thousand dollars, and that was perfectly okay with me.

“Okay, Sinclaire. How long will I be here, and how will I get home?”

“I will be driving you home after the session has ended.”

The elevator dinged and I heard the car doors open. I was greeted with the smell of rich leather and dark wood. It had a pleasant effect on my senses. Maybe tonight wouldn’t turn out to be such a bust after all.

“Wait here,” Sinclaire instructed me as I heard him walk away. Even through the blackness of the blindfold, I could tell that the lights in the room I was standing in had just dimmed. I couldn’t tell if there were any windows or anything that would connect me to the outside world.

A soft stream of classical music began to play through speakers that seemed to be placed throughout the room. Judging by the sound filtering through, the room must have been pretty large. I heard footsteps as they slowly approached me, and I wondered who it would be. The client, or Sinclaire?

“There are a few rules I need to discuss with you, Miss Lane. Again I must stress the importance of leaving the blindfold on. You will not hear the client, nor will you hear him speak. The only voice you will hear will be mine as I feed you the client’s instructions. Now, before we begin, are there any limits that we need to go over?”

Limits? I had none. That is what happens when you become a professional whore. You don’t worry about what it is that you will or won’t do, you just concentrate on what it is the client wants so you can earn your pay.

“I have no limits, Sinclaire, although I do require at least fifty percent of the fee to be placed in my bag and the other fifty to follow after the completion of my services.”

“Fair enough, Miss Lane. The client will be pleased with your positive attitude of limits as well.”

I noticed a hint of darkness cloud his voice, but shrugged it off. If the client got his rocks off from another person being in the room to guide and watch, then more power to him. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had to please a client before by performing with another participant. There were some sick and fucked up people in this world, but I did what I had to do in order to survive. The benefit of not giving a shit about any of the stuff I did was a wonderful perk for my profession.

“Will you be joining in on the session, Sinclaire?” I asked inquisitively.

“Er, um, no,” he stuttered and I arched my brow from under the blindfold wondering why he seemed to trip over the answer he provided me.

“Shall we begin? Your client is waiting.”

“Lead the way.”

I was led to what I believed could be the center of the room. The rich smell of leather became more potent as I got closer to the source of the aroma.

“There is a bed behind you, Miss Lane. Please remove your coat and dress, then have a seat. I peeled the fabric from my shoulders and felt around to find the bed, placing my coat next to me as my ass came into contact with soft, silky satin sheets. I let the coolness absorb into my skin as my body began to flush with excitement. This was what I craved more than anything in the world. Pleasure was something I needed like a heroin addict needed a fix. It was one of the rare emotions that I got to feel, the physical concept of someone driving into me making my body and nerve endings come to life as euphoria filtered through me with each thrust. Being an escort, I had a good reason to practice the only thing that could really make me feel. Sex wasn’t just sex for me, it was a way of making me feel normal—making the emptiness and emotional blindness that was inside of me come to life, if only for a moment of time.

A warm, strong hand caressed my cheekbone, sending a shiver of delight through me. An electric charge of lust and desire for what was to come. The tips of his fingers were rough, toughened with time and I wondered what it was that he did to make them that way. I closed my eyes from behind the blindfold, even though I couldn’t see anything to begin with, and allowed my body to absorb his touch as he ran his finger across my jaw and down the curvature of my neck. My breathing became shorter as I tried to concentrate of the sensations I felt just from the touch of my client.

His finger traced down my shoulder and to the tops of my breasts not covered by the red lingerie that I wore. Suddenly it was gone, and I felt cold from the lack of touch.

“Your client is very pleased with what he sees, Miss Lane. In fact, so much so, he is willing to up the price of your fee to five thousand if you agree to let him bind you.”

Bind me? Why not. I’ve done it many times before.

“I have no issues being bound.”

“Good. He would also like for me to place these headphones over your ears. You will still be able to hear me, but nothing else.”

“Okay…” I said curiously. Why would he want the headphones over my ears when the only person speaking to me was Sinclaire anyway?