Work Text:
The idea of being a sex worker is still such a taboo, even nasty career choice according to most (if not all) people not in the industry.
Don't you have respect for yourself?
Aren't you worried about diseases?!
You should be ashamed of yourself!
But when you are counting the money at the end of the night or checking your bank account to see so many zeroes, the shame just magically fades away. It's the perfect balm to a sore backside or a raw scalp and you never lost a minute of sleep over it, not even a little. Besides, your line of work wasn't walking the streets as everyone assumed. Not that there was anything wrong with that; they were the the ones risking their lives every night and paved the way for the ones that figured out how to make the internet work in their favor. No, you were a professional escort that got to be a bit more picky about the clientele that you kept on the books.
So when you got the notice that a high-class executive was wanting a date, you couldn't help but take on the job. Your roommate was seething with jealousy and you couldn't help but giggle at her attempts to get the name out of you.
"Brad Pitt! Technically, he is a powerful executive."
You scoffed before applying mascara to your left eye, "Nope. And I'm not telling you."
"Okay - are they older or younger?"
"I can not tell you, Ellie. I had to sign a discretion waiver for fuck's sake." You started on the other eye, catching her disgruntled look in the mirror's reflection and smirked, "He's not older. Not younger either."
Ellie's eyes widened and she scooted closer to the edge of the bed. "Okay, so that leaves a very wide and very vague pool of middle-aged men to swim through. Would I know who he is?"
Snorting, you looked back at her. "Yes, you would. But I'm not-"
"Yes, I heard you bitch. You can't tell me." She sighed. "Is he good looking at least? I don't need my baby going to suck some nasty-ass dick."
You laughed out loud, "Oh my god, Ellie." It never ceased to amaze you how crass she could be at time.
"What?" She said, feigning innocence, "I actually care about your dates."
Pulling out a tube of lip stain, you nodded, "He's definitely good looking. You know how picky I am." Smearing deep, red liquid across your lips, you rubbed them together slowly, making sure to not get outside the lip line. The truth was, you didn't know a lot about this guy. You knew of him but didn't really know what he did or what company he worked for. A quick Google search helped you remember you'd seen his face plastered on a some popular magazines and floating around the internet.
He was handsome, but the chances of him being less than gentlemanly were pretty high. If your experience in this industry taught you anything, it was how to read people and your jerk radar was going off the charts.
Ellie rolled her eyes, "I've seen some of the dudes you're picky about. My faith in your judgement is pretty low."
Ignoring her, you checked your makeup one more time before standing up and going to your closet. A black, floor length gown was hanging on the inside of the closet door making Ellie gasp.
"Where did you get that?" She said, mouth complete agape.
"It was sent to me." You answered in a low tone, catching her eyes. "I accepted the job last night and it was sent over to me this morning."
"Shut the fuck up. When has that ever happened?"
You reached out to touch the very expensive material, expecting to feel something itchy and stiff; it was smooth and soft, buttery even. "Only once and it was ripped off as soon as I walked through the door."
Ellie touched the dress too, gasping again. "Did the date entail what was going to be happening?"
"Nope. Just that I would be picked up at 7:00 and I was hired for the whole night."
"The whole night? Jesus-" she took a deep breath and let go of the dress. "Guy must think he's a god in bed or something."
You laughed out loud, "Most of them do."
How he managed to send a dress that fit you exactly right was very impressive. It hugged you in all the right places and it felt like pure heaven against your skin.
Shame you weren't going to be wearing it for long.
Just as the instructions stated, a black car pulled up to your building promptly at 7:00. Ellie was firing off names as you were heading towards the door, hoping to figure out the mystery. Exasperated, you turned to her suddenly, grabbing her hands.
"Listen, the waiver states discretion but doesn't say anything specifically about not telling roommates. I will spill everything as soon as I get back, I promise." You winked and whirled around, opening the door.
"You better! All I have is Bobby tonight so I need some juicy details!"
"Goodbye Ellie!" You called before closing the door behind you.
The janky elevator ride gave you time to make sure you had everything you needed: mints, lip gloss, taser, clip that held your ID and a few bills - yep all there and accounted for. The taser, only just barely taken out of the package, had been a gift from a client for Christmas.
"Can never be too careful, doll."
There had yet to be a situation where you needed to use it, but he was right; you never knew about people. This guy might be a douche bag but he wasn't going to be stupid enough to try anything dangerous. You weren't beyond snitching on some CEO if he decided to get too rough with you.
Well, more rough than normal.
You watched the numbers descend, feeling yourself becoming nervous. There was always a moment before meeting a new client that you could feel your heart beat pick up a little and all you could do was fidget. This particular career choice had been made out of desperation and compared to some of the awful stories Ellie regaled you with, you'd been lucky to get clients that were kind and understanding. Hell, most of them treated you more like a therapist than a sex worker. You would gladly take on listening to them vent about their shitty home lives while sucking their cock over any of the potentially violent or nasty things they could do to you.
When you made it outside, a driver got out and opened the passenger door for you with a too-cheery smile. You slid onto the cool, leather seats expecting to see a man waiting for you, but no one was there.
"We're going to be meeting at his house before you head out, Miss-?" The driver must have seen your surprised face.
"Oh, you can call me Y/N. Uhm, where are we going after the hotel?"
He smiled again and made sure you were all the way in before closing the door, ignoring your question entirely.
"Yeah, this isn't weird at all." You muttered and exhaled, feeling your anxiety crawl up your arms and shoulders.
It wasn't far to his "house", if one could call it that. It was a huge, very expensive-looking condo in the richest part of the city. The car door opened and the driver was standing there with that same weird smile, holding out a hand to help you. You hesitated at first, but considering how much this guy was paying you, there wasn't much of a choice.
Exhaling slowly, you took his hand and got out of the car.
An older gentleman was standing at the bottom of the stoop, his hands behind his back. He wasn't your client either and you wondered how many people you had to go through to get to this dude. High-powered executive didn't seem to be a good descriptor; more like a goddamn prince.
Climbing the steps, you gave your best smile and held out your hand, "I'm Y/N. You're the one I spoke to in the email right?"
The man didn't grab your hand, but merely nodded. "Yes, I'm Murray, Jon's personal assistant. You will be attending a Gala with him this evening. I would highly suggest that you be on your best behavior. Jon has a very good reputation to maintain and I would hate for that to get tarnished tonight, if you understand my meaning."
Oh, he's one of those people.
Your smile faded into a smirk and you nodded, "I understand. I'll be sure to leave my dildos and lingerie at the house. Excuse me." Moving past him to the door, you opened it and went inside without looking back.
It was like stepping through a portal; the outside did not do justice to what was on the inside of his house. Beautiful architecture, vaulted ceilings, top dollar art pieces, marble floors, and stairs that led to an entirely different, second floor left you feeling very, very small. Murray closed the door and you jumped from the echo that rippled through the house.
"He should be down any minute." Murray commented shortly, then walked past you into what looked like a giant kitchen. Your whole apartment could fit in the living room alone. The Wikipedia article you read stated he was rich, but you were too nervous to see exactly how rich. From the looks of things; very. A classical Renaissance painting caught your eye and you stepped closer to inspect it.
"Is this real?" You asked in a near whisper to yourself.
"That is very real."
A new, deeper voice startled you, causing a small yelp to come flying out of your mouth and you whirled around.
This was your client.
And boy fucking howdy, he was better looking than any of his pictures. He was tall; a good 5 or 6 inches taller than you at least. Handsome in a very manly way, if that was even a thing and even through his tuxedo, you could tell he took care of his body. The wonders that were under that button-up shirt were probably a sight to behold. Basically, he looked like he could throw you over his shoulder and do whatever he wanted to you. Then he smiled.
You didn't know you could develop an instant crush on someone based on their smile, but you did and it felt - weird.
None of your other clients made you feel like this. In fact, it was the complete other way around. When you first showed up to a new house, it took everything they had not to attack you on their doorstep. They were practically putty in your hands to do with as you pleased and they would thank you for it, loud and proud. On top of everything else, your other clients weren't ugly, but compared to him they were trolls.
"I didn't mean to scare you." He said, that same soft smile not leaving his lips. Even from here, you could smell whatever delicious cologne he was wearing.
It was making your mouth water.
"Oh, no, it's okay. I'm uhm-" you took a brave step forward, extending out the hand you offered to Murray earlier, "-I'm Y/N."
He took your hand, shaking it gently. "Nice to meet you, I'm Jon. I am, unfortunately, running late and I didn't want to keep you waiting. I hope you don't mind that you came here first."
"Not at all. It's just...I guess I just didn't know we were going to a - what did he call it - a gala?"
"I apologize, Murray keeps everyone on a "need to know" basis as much as possible. Is that going to be a problem?" He was staring right into your eyes and you could swear you felt the back of your knees starting to sweat.
"I'm...no, you know what? It's fine. I'm yours for the evening." You put on the best, fake smile you could.
Jon studied your face for a second, but seemed to take your word for it. "Okay, good. I need a few more minutes and then we can get going. That dress looks great on you, by the way." He turned back towards the stairs and stared to go up. "Feel free to make yourself at home! There's water and beer in the fridge if you're thirsty." Then he was out of sight.
The skin around your ears and mouth seemed suddenly too small and they burned hot. Casually throwing compliments around all willy-nilly, smooth sir.
A beer did sound good right about now but you were too nervous to go in there while Murray was still hanging around. You wondered if he was going to come to the party as well.
Won't that be a fun?
It did give a chance to look around his house more, however. And to also realize that he was probably your wealthiest client you'd ever had and that included a few celebrities that managed to roll your way. Everything was pristine; the furniture, the rugs, even the fucking fireplace looked like it came out of a fairytale castle. Another realization hit you at the same time: you did not, in any way, belong here. You made decent money, sure, but not even with fucking half the men in the city could you make what he did in one month. Even the things that hung on your body weren't yours; the dress was sent to you and the fancy heels were Ellie's. The only thing you actually owned was the pearl necklace you were wearing and technically that wasn't even yours either; your grandmother was to thank for that. You were a made up character for this man's entertainment.
Something moved in your peripheral. Murray was sneakily trying to keep an eye on you from the entry way. Obviously, not sneaky enough. You locked eyes with him and he turned quickly, suddenly very interested in the umbrella stand by the door.
"Hi Murray." You called out. He only slightly turned to acknowledge you speaking to him.
Jon came down the stairs again and exhaled, completely ignoring the look that Murray was giving him and smiling widely at you.
"You ready?" He called out.
Nodding, you met him by the stairs and smiled. "Absolutely." He added some nice cufflinks and finished the bowtie to his tuxedo, completing the dreamy, Princely look.
"Good. Murray, please do not be here when I come back and lock up when you leave." He started for the door and you followed after him, doing a childlike wave at Murray as you passed by.
"Bye, Murray."
He looked like he wanted to say something but you were almost out the door before he could speak. Like a true gentleman, Jon helped you down the stairs and into the car with very warm and surprisingly rough hands. He climbed in beside you and the car rolled forward.
"So, " you started, "that Murray guy is an...interesting character." A small smirk formed on your lips. "I'm guessing it wasn't his idea to hire me, then?"
Jon chuckled, shaking his head. "Nope. He was just the one starting the conversation."
"Do you - do this often? Hire an escort, I mean?" The tips of his ears went a bit red and he looked out the window. "I'm guessing that's a no?"
"My family is expecting me to bring a girl to this little gathering and I'm too busy to find one the normal way. My buddy suggested it and I thought, 'Why not? Fuck it' and then I put it off and put it off until about 9 last night."
You nodded, "Hence the request at 10."
"My mother asked if I was bringing my girlfriend and I said I was, so - here you are."
"Speaking of that," you turned to him slightly, "what is the story we're going with here? I mean, they've never seen me before and I'm practically a street rat, so-"
"We've been dating for a month. I met you at a conference. Easy." He was smiling so sweetly again and holy shit why were you sweating so much? Jon must have read your mind (or maybe it was your face) because he frowned a little. "What? Not good?"
"I know we just met and I'm not trying to mess up the very lame lie you have going, but you need a better story than that."
Jon let out a full-bellied laugh and it was the most heart-warming sound you ever heard. "Okay, okay, fair enough. What would you suggest?"
"Well, you gotta have a meet-cute story. Everyone will ask and if you say 'we met at a conference' and nothing else, it will be suspicious. How did we meet at said conference? Did I take the last donut and you were upset about it? Did you run into me, spilling coffee all over my nice pant suit? Anything will work, trust me."
He was studying your face again and it caused a sudden explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. Goddman, how did he do that? He was just another John, literally, as far as you were concerned; why in the hell was he giving you all these...feelings?
"How about this? You were sitting a row below me during a lecture, I saw you get up and was immediately attracted to you. I followed you out into the hall to talk and I ran into you, spilling coffee all over your pant suit."
'Okay, good, good, I like it. Was I upset?"
He thought a moment, "Yes, very upset. I think you were cussing me out actually."
It was your turn to do a big laugh, "Damn right I did! Using F-bombs and everything. That was until...?"
"Until?"
"Well you had to ask me out somehow. How did you do it?"
"Oh, right. Uhm-" his eyes met yours and you could see the wheels turning in his head, "-until I offered to buy you a new pant suit and new coffee, both at the place of your choosing."
You smirked, "This is really good. And since I'm instantly attracted to you, I would turn it into a way to get you to go out with me. As extra payment for pain and suffering."
Jon's eyebrows raised slightly, "Instantly attracted, huh?"
Your cheeks were heating up again and you shrugged, "You know, in the story."
"Oh, right. In the story." He glanced out the window again. "We're here."
Looking out of your own window, you felt your stomach drop as if you were on a rollercoaster. There were hundreds of people there. Maybe even thousands. This was a bigger event than you thought. Your work happened behind closed doors; not for every rich person in New York to see. You turned to Jon, trying to form words even though your mouth was as dry as a desert.
"I-I can't do this."
"What?" He asked. The amount of concern on his face would have been very cute if you weren't about to start panicking at any moment.
"There are a lot of people out there. I am not suited for this kind of thing. I'm a sex worker, Jon. They are going to know the moment I step out of this car and the jig will be up and I'll be escorted out and-"
"Hey, hey, it's okay." His warm hands grabbed yours and squeezed. "You just came up with a great story and all you have to do is follow my lead. I promise, if you get kicked out, I'm going with you. Take a deep breath." Jon inhaled, gesturing for you to do the same.
Slowly you inhaled and he exhaled, his warm, minty breath washing over you. It calmed you, oddly enough, and you exhaled too. The anxiety subsided ever so slightly.
"There. Is that better?" The amount of selflessness radiating out of him was so pure and deep; you didn't even know what to say. So you nodded.
He held onto your hands still. "Besides, most of the men in there are here with their mistresses or girlfriends; you're going to be fine."
The car door opened and you saw a large group of people trying to see who was joining their party. As you were getting out, Jon held you back with a slight tug. You looked back at him, not expecting for him to be so close to you.
"I know I said it earlier but you really do look great in that dress. Top notch, darlin'." He winked and a shiver went over your entire body.
Whatever fears or anxieties you had suddenly melted away and you knew that tonight was going to be a good one, even if you didn't know what the hell you were doing. At the very least, Jon would be with you.
The very large amount of money he sent to you the night before didn't hurt either.
You recognized the building as one of the premier banquet halls in the city. It was hard to miss; it stood toe-to-toe with the Met on everything but reputation. It was a newer place that couldn't have been more than a year old judging by how good the stone work looked; New York had a special way of making things dirty fairly quickly. You linked your arm around his and he put a large hand over your fist for extra measure.
He is going to sell the hell out of this.
Once inside, you realized that the amount of people actually attending the party wasn't nearly as many as you thought. The people outside must have been press and lookie-loos. The panic from before was manageable now and surprisingly, no one was really staring at you.
"Oh Jon, you made it!" An elegant woman in a smoky, silver dress with shiny black jewels accenting the waist was sashaying towards the both of you. She was even wearing black, silk gloves to complete the ensemble. Her face was older, but she held herself in such a way that you couldn't tell her age. "I thought you weren't going to come."
"Hey, Mom. Sorry we're late." He let go of your arm and leaned down to put a quick peck on her cheek.
"And this must be-" Her attention was on you now. For whatever idiotic reason, you sucked in your belly and gave what must have ben the most awkward smile.
"This is Y/N. My girlfriend." He looked down at you with the most sincere, puppy-dog eyes and you couldn't help staring back.
"Y-yes, that's me." You swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away from his. "It's so nice to finally meet you. Jon has told me so much about you."
"Has he?" She raised her eyebrows at him and then at you. "He's not said a word about you."
Panic rose in your chest again. Dammit, what in the hell do I say to that?
Thankfully, Jon jumped in. "Mom, you know how I like to keep things close to the chest. I wanted to make sure I didn't scare her away before introducing her to these hooligans." His eyes landed on a gentleman making his way through the crowd, extending out a hand to Jon who took it and shook firmly, "Like this villain right here."
The man looked almost identical to Jon, except a smidge shorter and older with a little bit more girth to his belly. "The only villain I know of is Elon Musk." Surrounding party members guffawed and chuckled at his little joke.
You had no idea what the hell he was talking about.
Jon's mother rolled her eyes, "No more of that talk tonight. Dear, this is Jon's girlfriend, Y/N."
You could feel his eyes boring into you like hot coals. You smiled as nicely as you could muster and extended your hand, "Nice to meet you." The voice that came out sounded small and meek, something you were not known for.
"Same to you, young lady. I hope my son is treating you well."
"Dad, come on." For the first time that night, you saw Jon look a little embarrassed.
"I'm just saying, us Bernthal boys can be a little rough around the edges, especially when we've had a whiskey or two." He winked at you and you had to bite your tongue to keep from giggling. The same group started laughing again and you looked to Jon, seeing his less-than-amused, fake smile he was putting on.
He leaned down to your ear and whispered, "Or three." You made it look like he was saying something quite scandalous and giggled. "Come on, let's go get something to drink." Grabbing your hand, he steered you towards the bar area.
As soon as you were out of earshot, you breathed out. "Oh, thank god. I thought I was going to pass out."
"They can be a rough crowd. But you did really great back there."
You scoffed, "I did not. I would rather swim through shark infested waters than do that again,"
"This has been my entire life and it still gets to me sometimes."
"What? Really?"
He nodded, "Every time. A board room full of CEO's and competitors is nothing compared to this group."
"You seem to navigate it well." Jon was walking past the bar and you craned your neck to make sure you weren't mistaken. "The bar-"
"We're going outside. I need some air." He gave you a reassuring grin.
Smiling, you sighed, "You're a mind reader, handsome."
Jon chuckled, guiding you to a a pair of open doors leading out to a balcony and one of the best views of the city you'd seen since moving to New York.
"Wow," you sighed. The sun was almost set, blanketing the city in a various colors of blue and purple; the lights were twinkling like stars against the darkening sky. "You know, sometimes I miss living in the country because of the stars but, man, nothing beats this."
Jon let go of your hand to stand beside you, "Agreed. I grew up in this city, but I don't think I'll ever get tired of it." He paused, then moved his gaze to you. "Where did you live before?"
"Ah, here comes the awkward personal life questions." You smirked.
Jon leaned down where he was level with you, "Are personal questions a no-no?"
"It's fine. In my...line of work, most men don't care a thing about me. And as you have paid to fuck me, I'm a little hesitant to delve too deeply into my life."
The look on Jon's face went from wistful to indignant in .5 seconds. "I didn't pay to fuck you."
Now your face was indignant, "Uh, yes you did.”
"No, I-" he stood back up, "I meant, I wasn't thinking about that when I hired you. When I say that it was pure panic about not having a date that brought me to your website, I mean it. Sex wasn't even a thought my mind. Until just now."
You squinted your eyes slightly. "That is just weird."
"Why?"
"Well," you let out a laugh, "you hired an escort! As I stated before, a sex worker. That's what I do. The sex."
Now he was fully facing you and he nodded, "Fair. But I never said I wanted to have sex with you. I just said I needed a date to a party."
"A gala, actually." You playfully corrected him.
"Whatever. All I'm saying is-"
"You hired me for the whole night to not have sex with me?" You interrupted. If that was the case, this was going to be easiest night you'd had in a long time.
Jon shrugged, "I figured we could make an appearance at the party and then see where the night took us."
Giving him another wary look, you shrugged, "Sounds fake, but okay." You winked at him, grinning.
He huffed out a laugh. "We better get back before my mother comes looking for us."
With a chuckle, you turned to go back inside, but he stopped you with a hand placed lightly around your waist, instantly sending tingles over your entire lower half. Your eyes met his and he pulled you a little closer, "I'm sure you hear this a lot, but not all of us guys are built the same."
"As much as I would like to think that, I have yet to find one who doesn't disappoint me. But hey, there's always room to change my mind." A sincere smile crossed your red lips.
"Challenge accepted, then." His hand dropped from your waist slowly, leaving an invisible, heated mark on your skin.
You weren't entirely sure what he meant by that but judging by the way he was looking down at you and the almost smug look on his face, you had a feeling he was going to keep his promise. Or at least try to anyway. You wouldn't blame him if he changed his mind later; having someone at your beck and call for effortless sex was a temptation that any man would have a difficult time turning down. But you were willing to go with him on this adventure. Maybe he would prove you wrong.
Once back inside, you were introduced to more coworkers, managers, friends, wives, girlfriends, a random uncle that worked for the company and endless amounts of clients. And through it all, Jon never left your side. He was kind enough to keep you plied in champagne, of which you gladly partook in; you would probably never taste champagne this expensive again. The problem was, they weren't serving a full dinner that this gala. The hors d'oeuvres weren't filling in the least and you knew if you didn't get real food soon, the champagne would start talking for you.
Once again, Jon read your mind. "You wanna get out of here? I know a pretty fantastic burger place not too far from here."
"Won't your parents be upset you left early?"
"Nah, they won't miss me. I'll hear about it tomorrow, but for now I need something more than duck pate and crackers."
"Okay, so then the answer to your question is take me to find food, pretty please."
Without another word and one of his signature smiles, he grabbed your hand and practically trotted out of the main ballroom and out into the city. You glanced back only once to see his father giving a knowing smile and you laughed out loud. By the time you reached the street, you figured Jon would let go of your hand but he didn't. In fact, he was lacing his fingers in with yours. Everything in you screamed to let go; you weren't actually his girlfriend. However, he was your client and if he wanted to hold your hand while navigating around downtown, you were going to let it ride.
The city, despite it's somewhat gross and trash-filled flaws, was one of your favorite places in the country. The sights, the smells, the way everything and everyone flowed just made sense to you. It wasn't exactly the safest place to be walking around late at night, but walking hand-in-hand with a man that looked like he could rip a dude in half definitely made you feel more secure. You could get used to this.
I really need to stop thinking about him like that. This is a one time thing.
You were a little surprised when he decided to take the burgers to go and head back to his house. The driver showed up after a quick text and before you knew it, you were sitting on the floor of his living room, halfway scarfing down the best burger you've ever had. Your dress had been hiked up to your knees so you could sit down and Jon discarded his bowtie and jacket, untucking the shirt with a deep sigh of relief.
"How have I not found this place before??" Taking another bite of the burger, Jon watched you with amusement. "I mean, this is incredible."
"Glad it doesn't disappoint. Georgie has never steered me wrong." He wiped his face with a napkin and tossed it towards the other garbage he compiled next to him. "So can I ask you a question?"
You bit into a french fry, shrugging. "Depends on the question."
"Why do you avoid personal questions?"
"Ohhh, not what I thought you were going to ask." You sniggered, putting down the remains of your burger to wipe your hands. He wasn't moving on to another question. And - he was staring at you. Not with the puppy eyes from before, but with determination. He was not going to let you squirm your way out this one. Finally, you sighed and leaned back on your hands.
"Because the last time I got too close to someone, it got me in a lot of trouble."
"Someone? Or a client?"
"A client." You clarified. "He was one of my first. I let him be vulnerable and was vulnerable in return and - " you paused, trying to find the right words. The familiar sting of fear and embarrassment settled in the bottom of your stomach.
"And he got attached?" He asked, his eyes searching yours.
"Yes. But not just attached - borderline obsessed. He's the only one I've ever had to file a restraining order against. Wouldn't leave me alone. Called me all the time, found out where I lived, hacked into my social media somehow and tried to threaten anyone that talked to me. It was really crazy for a little while."
"And you still want to be in this kind of work?" Jon's question wasn't meant to be judgmental and you knew that, but it still stirred this irritation inside of you that couldn't help but show all over your face. His eyebrows went up and he raised both hands. "Okay, that was obviously the wrong thing to ask."
Clearing your throat, you exhaled slowly. "Sorry, I just get...so annoyed by that question."
"Why?"
"I guess I like having the ability to do whatever I want and not have to answer to anyone." Your fingers idly played with the now cold fries in front of you. "I make pretty good money and I make my own schedule. Who can argue with that?"
Jon nodded. "Yeah, but you're still answering to someone."
"No, I'm not. I'm...a consultant of sorts." A smile played at the corner of your lips as you watched Jon stand up.
He wiped his hands together and then plopped down on the couch. "My ass was falling asleep sitting on that floor, sorry." He got adjusted and then looked back to you. "You're being hired to fulfill the fantasy of your clients, right? And if that fantasy isn't exactly right or if you decide to say 'No' instead of 'Yes' or whatever the situation is - it's your job to fix it for them. In money or from your skin."
You stared at him, trying to figure out if really was an asshole in disguise or if he was trying to have a genuine conversation about a profession he knew nothing about. The honest truth, though, was that he was right. He was absolutely right and no matter how much you kidded yourself about it, you always answered to someone else. The realization had you shuffling yourself up from the floor, grabbing your trash.
"Did I upset you?" He asked, stretching out an arm across the couch. One of his top buttons had been undone, showing a little bit more of his neck and a smidge of his smooth chest. He looked like a fucking dream. You were so tempted to just curl up against him and fall asleep. Giving him an option to break his "promise" was not going to come from you, though. If he wanted to take things in a different direction, he would be the one to initiate.
Sighing, you sat down on the couch as well, keeping a moderately safe distance away. "No, you didn't. I just realized that you were not...wrong."
This answer made Jon laugh again, that deep, raspy tenor making your knees a little weak. "You are a stubborn one, aren't you?"
"Only when I want, which is...pretty much all the time." You smirked.
"It's pretty cute." The way he was looking at you made your internal organs do a bunch of flips and you looked away quickly. There was a moment of silence and you couldn't help glancing his way again. Jon's eyes were scanning you, slowly, from head to toe.
"See somethin' ya like, cowboy?"
"I was just wondering if you wanted to change into something more comfortable."
Your eyebrows instantly went up. "Unless you magically have some of my clothes in a closet somewhere, I have nothing to change into. This is pretty blatant attempt to get me naked, sir." You instinctively leaned forward with that last word. Jon slid sideways to meet you in the middle, the waves of heat and cologne hitting your senses like a slap in the face.
You had to blink to stop from swooning.
"I do have some clothes that would fit you, sort of. They might be a little big, but they would be more comfortable than that dress." The flick of his eyes from your mouth to your eyes was so quick, had you not been paying attention you would have missed it. It was obvious just how much he wanted to kiss you and had he moved a few inches closer, you would have let him.
But then he moved back and stood up, heading upstairs. "I'll go get them for you."
Exhaling, you leaned back. It was kind of embarrassing how annoyingly wet you suddenly were and how you couldn't stop thinking about him taking the evening gown off slowly, laying you down on the couch and absolutely ravishing you. Your pride was on the line, though. Speeches were made against it, for crying out loud. If you broke down now and admitted how much you wanted him, you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself.
But it would be a hell of a time, though.
He returned, holding up his prize. "A pair of shorts that belonged to an ex-girlfriend and one of my shirts. Will that do?"
"Ex-girlfriend shorts; how romantic." You stood up and took the clothing from him, giggling. "Where can I change?"
"The guest bathroom is right through there." He pointed to a small hallway with one, singular door at the end.
Nodding, you sashayed away, feeling his piercing gaze searing your back. Right as you were about to open the door, you looked behind you demurely; hair in your eyes, lips pursed and everything.
It was totally worth it, too. Jon's features softened and you could clearly see him swallow hard. Biting down on your bottom lip slightly, you opened the door and closed it behind you, laughing quietly. Goddamn, you just couldn't help yourself.
The clothes were comfy as hell. Ex-girlfriend's shorts were perfect and the shirt was big and baggy; just like you wore at home. The heels came off with a sigh of relief, stretching out your toes and the arch of your foot. The cool marble felt divine on the bottoms of your feet. Heels were a common part of your costumes but your feet never seemed to get used to wearing them.
Checking the mirror, you couldn't help but snort at how nice your makeup still looked in comparison to the too-big-shirt. Sleep was probably not going to be an option tonight so you decided to go with it.
Jon was swiping around on his phone by the time you emerged, looking up suddenly. "How do they fit?"
You twirled around, holding your arms out, "Pretty good. Now - I have a question for you."
"What's that?"
"Why in the world do you have your ex-girlfriend's shorts still?"
Jon rolled his eyes, "Accidental. She lived with me for a hot second and forgot to take them with her when she moved out."
Hands behind your back, you took a few steps towards him. "Just saying, if I find ponytail holders and hair color in your bathroom, I'm outta here."
Taking the opportunity to step forward as well, he grinned down at you, "Planning to be in my bathroom much?"
You shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not beyond snooping on clients."
"Very sneaky. Why would hair ties and color be a bad thing to find?"
"Because," you stuck a finger in his chest, gently, "it would indicate that a woman still lives here and therefore I am home wrecking."
"Maybe she left them behind and I haven't gotten rid of it yet." He glanced down at your finger, moving himself closer to here your entire palm was placed on his chest. It radiated warmth and you could feel his heart beat slightly, getting faster.
"Then that would indicate a severe issue with letting go of the past. Sounds like you need therapy." You joked, winking
He chuckled, "Probably. But why get a therapist when I have you to psychoanalyze me and roast my life choices?" He was smiling widely again.
"Technically, I am a therapist. I get paid by the hour to listen to dudes complain about their life. Except with more sex and costumes." Jon's eyebrows shot up and a laugh burst out of you. "I didn't mean to say that out loud." Your hands covered your face, but he grabbed your wrists tenderly, pulling them back down. The pulse points on your wrists were practically vibrating and you wondered if he could feel it.
"Costumes? What kind of costumes?"
You shook your head, "You don't want to know."
The hold on your wrists were loosened and you let them fall out of his grip slowly. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know." His eyes was more stern than before, but you weren't afraid. In fact, you were the exact opposite of being afraid. The image of him slinging you over his shoulder and taking you to bed floated to the front of your mind again and another wave of arousal pooled between your thighs. "But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"No, it's fine. So...some of my clients are into...school girls and cowgirls and anime girls and I have costumes for each of them. They pay more if costumes are more accurate or detailed." Your cheeks were burning, knowing just how dumb you must have sounded.
Jon considered your statement for a second, then tilted his head back and forth as if he was making a decision. "The school girl could be cute. The cowgirl, interesting. Anime girl?"
You giggled, "Yes, anime girl. Ya know...anime?"
"I know what it is. I guess I'm just curious about the actual costume."
"You just want to see pictures, Mister Man." Squinting your eyes at him, you went to your purse and pulled your phone out, scrolling through your recent pictures. "I just so happened to get a selfie before I went to my client, so here." Handing off the phone to him, he immediately smiled wider than you'd seen the entire night.
"Huh. An anime girl. That is surprisingly pretty hot." Jon handed the phone back. "I didn't know I would be into that until just now."
"Unfortunately, I did not bring any of my other costumes this evening so that will be for another night." You were smiling, but a deep part of you felt a quick flash of sadness rise up in your chest. This was one of the first times you had this much fun with a client who wasn't actively trying to tear your clothes off. And it was the only time you wanted a client to tear your clothes off; something you weren't fully prepared for in that moment.
"So you're saying you would come back, then?" He was standing close to you again.
Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you smirked. "I guess that depends on you."
Jon's large, warm hand cupped your face with the slightest of touches and you inhaled, holding your breath. "You are so beautiful."
"Don't do that," you whispered.
"Why not?" He asked, tilting his head.
"Because I'll make you break your promise. Challenge accepted, remember?" Your heart was going to come thudding out of your goddamn chest at this point.
The space between you was getting smaller and you could feel yourself letting go of any inhibitions you'd been clinging to all night. Jon's lips were mere millimeters from yours when he stopped. "I don't want to do anything that you're uncomfortable with. I know I said I wouldn't try anything but I've been wanting to kiss you from the moment I saw you. Call me weak or a liar, I don't care. I just know I don't want to let you go without at least kissing you."
"If I let you kiss me, I won't be able to stop anything else that happens after." You admitted, gingerly placing your hands on his waist. "But I promise to not call you a liar until the morning."
A smirk ghosted across his lips and he closed the distance between your lips. All the air seemed to rush out of your lungs and the room spun, giving the distinct feeling of falling. It was everything you hoped it would be; soft and warm and passionate.
Oh no, oh god, he was a good kisser too.
Jon's arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into him completely. You had to stand on your tip-toes to get your arms around his neck, but it was the leverage he needed to deepen the kiss further. The realness of mouth moving against yours twisted a raw desire through your veins that you hadn't felt for another human being in a long time. Hell, you couldn't remember the last time you kissed someone without feeling cringe crawl under your skin. But now this man, this beautiful, kind, funny specimen, was touching you as if you were more than some sex escort and it drew out something deep from inside you; something you didn't recognize.
"Can I take you upstairs? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or-"
"Jon, stop worrying so much and take me to your fucking bed." You growled.
"Yes ma'am." He replied.