Part I
Larissa Jacobs' financial debt is climbing after a failed attempt at becoming the next big thing in Hollywood--and now her roommate has asked her to come up with the rent by the end of the weekend or she'll be out on the street. But her roommate soon takes pity on her and offers to help her get a job working with him for an escort service. Larissa's first client is Senator Chase Underwood: gorgeous, married, and the current presidential candidate. Will his penchant for sexual domination destroy his prospects of world domination?
This is the first short story in the Power Players Series.
1
Money will make a person do crazy things; like standing in front of a hotel waiting to be picked up for your first job as a professional escort.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t blame my roommate for this new gig. Shane Meadows introduced me to Black Tie Escorts after I lost my part-time job as a children’s party clown three weeks ago. Shane was one of the most handsome guys I’d ever laid eyes on. When I answered the roommate-wanted ad in the L.A. Times and showed up to find Shane standing in the center of a tiny but gorgeous artists’ loft, I thought I’d finally hit the big time. Shane turned out to be gay, dashing any hope of fulfilling all the hot fantasies I’d been casting him in. And two years later, I still hadn’t gotten my big break in Hollywood.
Midnight in August was the perfect time to stand outside a hotel on Wilshire Avenue. The breeze lifted the stray hairs near my temples, tickling my skin and sending shivers down my arms. The downtown lights sparkled and leaped off the brass trash bins, the gleaming taxi, the glass entrance doors behind me. The lights were dizzying and comforting at once. Even though the city could be harsh, it had become my home ever since my parents decided that chasing my foolish dreams was cause for disownment.
“Miss Jacobs?” an elderly voice called softly from behind me. Harry, the doorman, ambled toward me holding out a folded piece of paper in his wrinkled hand. “A gentleman called and had this message for you.”
My first thought as I reached for the note was that whoever the service set me up with had probably driven by the hotel and changed his mind when he saw me. He definitely would have found me attractive. I’d never had a problem securing modeling gigs for print and online work. But I was not runway material. Maybe this guy, who would be paying $5,000 for one night with me, was looking to get a bit more for his money.
I unfolded the note and read two words: NORTH ENTRANCE.
When I looked up, Harry was almost back at his station near the front entrance. He turned to face me again and nodded to his right: north. I smiled my thanks and set off toward the hotel’s side entrance. I had only known Harry for thirty minutes, but he had already shown me ten times more kindness than my new boss at Black Tie Escorts: Jessica Broom.
Jessica was twenty-seven, just three years older than I was, and she already owned her own escort service. How she managed this, I didn’t know, and I was pretty sure I was not allowed to ask.
I rounded the corner of the hotel into a narrow roadway leading toward an underground parking structure. A black Lincoln Towncar sat parked in the center of the narrow road, lights on and engine idling. I suddenly became hyperaware of my surroundings: the moths flitting around the security lights, the smell of Chinese food wafting over the fence from the restaurant next door, the fluttering nervousness in my belly, and the pulsating sensation in my crotch.
As nervous as I had been anticipating this moment all day long, a part of me was excited. Jessica claimed this client requested me specifically because it was my first time. She didn’t say he picked me because of my ravishing beauty, which was a bit disappointing. The fact that he chose me at all was enough to pique my interest and had me fantasizing all day about possible candidates: a famous actor, a politician, or a film director who would insist on giving me my first big role.
Jessica only dealt with high-profile clients. She claimed this client was as high-profile as it got.
The driver stared straight ahead as if I didn’t exist. As I approached, the back door swung open. I approached slowly until I could see into the cabin. All I could glimpse was a pair of gray slacks and black wingtips.
“Have you worked for any other escort services or is this your first time?” a smooth voice asked. I couldn’t see him through the veiled darkness inside the car, but his voice sounded familiar, like I had just heard it today on the television.
I didn’t know if answering with the truth would make him doubt me, but I figured if he wanted a pro he would have chosen one of the other girls. “This is my first time,” I replied.
“Come inside.”
I stepped into the backseat and my breath caught in my throat. My first client was Senator Chase Underwood.
Presidential candidate Chase Underwood. The gorgeous 39-year-old playboy who just settled down with his new wife last year.
His gaze glided over me, taking in every inch of my black dress and nude heels.
“Shut the door,” he commanded, his voice gentle but confident.
I turned around to pull the door closed and when I turned back his face was inches from mine. His hand slid over my knee, up my thigh, until his warm hand reached the crotch of my cotton panties.
“Larissa? Is that your name?” he whispered in my ear, as his fingers gripped the seam of my panties and yanked down, the wetness leaving a trail on my leg before he flung them aside.
“Yes,” I breathed, as his mouth closed over my collarbone and the car began to move forward.
“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he said, before his lips crushed mine in a kiss that was tender and assertive all at once.
I could feel his hard length against my hip as he pulled me onto his lap and slipped his hand between my legs. A shudder passed through me as his fingers slid between my wet folds and inside me.
“I knew as soon as Jessica showed me your picture that I had to have you,” he whispered, as his tongue flicked in and out of my ear.
I could feel myself becoming engorged with pleasure as he slid his fingers out of me and gently stroked my clit using my own nectar.
I can’t believe I’m about to have sex with Chase Underwood! And I’m getting paid for it!
My pelvis writhed and grinded against his touch as his lips explored the curve of my jaw. My limbs filled with so much pleasure my entire body quaked. He kissed my throat and tickled my nub until my body released a final shudder. I fell limp against the leather seat and he sat upright looking very pleased with himself. He lifted my black panties off the floor of the car and held them out to me. My arm wobbled as I reached for them, but he pulled them back at the last second and held them to his nose.
“Mmm… Like an autumn pear,” he said with a grin then he handed them over. They were soaked with my juices so I stuffed them into my purse. “Where do you live?”
That’s it? For $5,000?
Jessica specifically told me I wasn’t allowed to give clients my home address and definitely was not supposed to go home with them, for safety purposes. I wasn’t sure if these rules applied to Chase Underwood so I decided to take a chance. He was either so dissatisfied with me he wanted to get me out of his car or the night wasn’t over yet. I was hoping it was the latter.
“355 Warren… apartment 4,” I breathed, as I attempted to sit upright and check my hair in my hand mirror.
My hands shook as I steadied the mirror in my hands. It had been months since I’d been touched like that by anyone other than myself. Hanging out with Shane for two years had not done wonders for my sex life. I had to lie about this to Jessica during my interview. I actually told her I had been in an open sexual relationship up until last month. Shane gave me pointers on what to say.
I could feel Chase staring at me as I slipped the mirror into my purse. My stomach was in knots wondering whether I had blown this, my only chance to conquer my ever-growing mountain of school loans and credit-card debt. My only chance to get fucked by a man—a hot, powerful man—in almost six months.
The car pulled up beside the curb of 355 Warren, a Spanish-style apartment building on the exterior; tiny artists’ lofts with high ceilings on the interior. I waited for him to say something, to ask to come inside, but he stared at me with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes.
“You can go now,” he said, nodding toward the car door.
You can go now? That’s it.
I glanced down at his crotch as I reached for the door handle behind me. His bulging erection threatened to break through his trousers. I wanted to bend over and take him into my mouth, but he was telling me to leave. Mixed messages? No, I definitely screwed this one up. I’d have to start packing my bags to leave L.A. in the morning.
2
A sudden bouncing on my bed woke me and I opened my eyes to find Shane sitting next to me in his boxers with a gleeful expression of triumph lighting up his gorgeous face. Oh, the things I would do to him if he didn’t find girls completely meh.
“So… how did it go?” he asked.
I sighed as I sat up and adjusted my ponytail. “I don’t know,” I mutter. “He rubbed my—you know—until I came then he basically kicked me out of his car.”
I couldn’t say the names of female body parts around Shane. It was too much for him. Every month, when I got my period, he basically holed himself up in the café down the street for four days.
“He just kicked you out onto the street?”
I debated whether I should tell him that Chase dropped me off at the apartment. I still hadn’t divulged his identity to Shane.
“Okay, you can’t tell anybody, but the client… it was Chase Underwood.”
“I know,” Shane gloated. “I did a little digging around while you were gone.”
I rubbed my eyes as I shook my head. “Shane, you can’t tell anyone, especially Jessica, but I let him drop me off here last night. I mean, how the fuck was I supposed to say no to Chase Underwood?”
Shane’s hands covered his cheeks as he stared at me in amazement. “Oh, honey, you just hit the jackpot.”
“What? Did you not hear what I just said? I spent, like, two seconds with him before dropped me off at home—and I didn’t even have sex with him.”
“Larissa, if he made you come then dropped you off at home, the man is coming back for more. Besides, I heard he was browsing Jessica’s catalogue for months before he settled on you. I heard Mr. Senator and his wife have never even had sex! The marriage is some kind of business agreement between them to further his career.”
“I don’t buy it. There is no way you would know this,” I said, as I sprung out of bed and made my way across the gleaming beech floors toward the bathroom.
A knock at the door made me stub my toe on the ottoman. I looked to Shane to see if he was expecting someone. His eyes were wide as we stared at each other, both thinking the same thing.
“Answer the door!” I whispered.
He glanced down at his boxers. “I can’t answer the door like this.”
“Put on your robe!”
“No! You put on your robe. I’m getting dressed,” Shane whispered furiously as he pulled on yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans.
I reached into the bathroom and pulled my bathrobe off the hook on the back of the door. I wrapped myself in the robe and breathed the fruity scent of my shampoo on the collar. Shane beat me to the front door, now fully dressed.
“Good luck!” he whispered, before he opened the door.
Chase appeared confused for only a split second before he extended his hand to Shane. “Good morning,” he said, and I suddenly realized that I never heard him use his smarmy politician voice last night. “I’m here for Miss Larissa Jacobs.”
Shane stared dumbstruck as he shook Chase’s hand. I stepped forward so he would release the senator.
“Senator Underwood. This is my roommate,” I said, as I sidled up next to Shane and pulled his arm away from Chase. “Shane, weren’t you just leaving?”