Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Relationships, with people outside of the business. A lot of people can’t handle being in love with a whore and waving them off to a nighttime gig with a see you later. Hence, a lot of entertainers end up with other entertainers, and even that has its challenges – a lot of which are the same. Jealousy. Fear. Insecurity. Knowing your partner is out fucking other people at the same time you are, or when you’re not. When you’re holed up watching TV in your PJs and they’re getting it on with three people at once.
I’ve thought and talked about the dynamics of being an entertainer ever since I became one, but as for the dynamic for clients. What it means to be a client… the challenges associated with that… I’ve never really given it that much thought.
Now that’s interesting.
Heath has two paid entertainers sharing his private villa right now, one of which he’s known and shared a sex life with for years – albeit a paid one. He adores Josh, that much is clear, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s getting pretty fond of me, too. So, how does that work for him?
He said he missed us. Enough that he was browsing our online profiles and checking out our services. Was he doing that because he was in a drought? Does he fuck us around fucking other people? Does he fuck other people at all? I know he’s not in a relationship, but still. It could still be casual.
Maybe he fucks other whores around our calendar bookings. Maybe he fucks other entertainers. People we know.
The thought of that hits me in the gut, unexpectedly. Bizarre. Because who cares if he does? He could be fucking five other entertainers a week, and why would it matter? Does it matter? It shouldn’t. Not to me.
“What are you thinking, Ells?” Josh asks.
“Sorry, what?”
He mimics the lip thing I do when I’m chewing over thoughts.
“Oh, um. Nothing.”
“Are you running through a list of celebrities in your head now, wondering if I’ve screwed them?”
Both guys are staring at me, and I’m a shit liar. Really shit.
“Damnit, Josh. You’ve got me nailed. I’m going to write a list out later, and quiz you one by one, see if you have any tells I can spot.”
“I’m a poker face expert,” Josh says. “But you’re not.”
“No?”
“No. You’re looking at Heath. It’s him you were thinking about, not me.”
He’s right. I flash my attention back to Josh in a heartbeat, because I didn’t know.
I thought I was developing the ability to read people, but Josh is way up above me, on pretty much everything. I don’t want to get into my thoughts on psychology and relationships or morning after syndrome, or any of it, because I’m good when it comes to client confidentiality, but not when it comes to my own.
I get up from the lounger and take off my sunglasses.
“Actually, if you must know, I was thinking about how great Heath’s pool looks.” I blow him a kiss. “Time for a dip.”
“Copout,” Josh says, but I’m already dashing across the patio, ready to divebomb.
What a beautiful splash, and what a beautiful pool. I do a few lengths, breaststroke, enjoying the ambience, but I can’t get the questions from my mind.
Are we the only people Heath has sex with? Really?
Why do I even hope so?
We’ve spent many evenings with Heath in London, becoming so comfortable in his mini gothic manor, but here in France it already feels different. More at home than his home, if that is even possible.
And this is just the start.
Seven nights in bed together, seven days at his side. Seven days in his life. Around him. Living with him. Loving him.
I’m going to have to be pretty fucking careful, and I know it. Seeing how happy Josh is in his presence only makes the threat more real.
Morning after syndrome might take on a whole new level of serious, and it might be contagious. Taking out Josh as well as me.
I’m staring out over the edge of the infinity pool at the crashing waves on the beach when someone swims up behind me. I have no idea which one of the two guys it is until they appear at my side. Heath. His long, wet hair splaying in the water.
“Josh has gone to grab more beers.”
“Cool.”
“You’re a good swimmer. I enjoyed watching.”
“Bah, sure. I was a crappy swimmer at school, and Dad says I do a poodle paddle.”
“Poodle paddle or not, it was stunning.” Heath’s eyes are the things that are stunning. Icy blue. The way he looks at me as he talks. “Are you finding this strange, Ella, being here? Are you comfortable?”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Comfortable?! I’m ecstatic, honestly. It’s out of this world.”
“Out of the regular world, for sure, which is why I’m checking in on you.” He gazes out at the sea. “It must be different, such a long proposal, with so much history between me and Josh. If that makes you feel strange, or it crosses any lines, please say so. I’ll understand if you want to leave.”