My money, or more accurately, Moon’s, is gone two hours later. He hasn’t sent another text and I’m finding it impossible to sit still. The ladies are taking bathroom breaks and stretching their long, shapely legs. It’s a little after midnight and the women look the same as they did when they walked in the door—gorgeous, rested, and dressed to the nines. I’m grumpy, tired, and dressed to kick some ass that I seriously hope doesn’t need kicking. Moon’s ring tone startles me.
Heading home. Keep your eyes open.
His aunt is in the car with him, so I understand that he can’t talk. I think about his message for a minute and decide if he thought trouble was imminent, he would be a little more forthcoming. He’s being cautious and I’ll be the same. He gets another smiley face.
The women wander back into the room in ones and twos. They decide it’s movie time, so we head to Moon’s mini theater that’s on the other side of the hallway. The teasing continues about me and Moon while I do my best to keep my lips sealed. Note to self: Don’t talk sex with professional escorts. Once they get started and know you’re uncomfortable, it’s a nightmare.
They finally leave me alone and begin sharing stories about individual customers. They have nicknames for them that range from Gooey to Ruff Ruff. These names make it worse.
Ruff Ruff pretends he’s a dog and his escort must also act like a dog. Lots of sniffing and licking goes on. The culmination of his scene (this is what the ladies call their role play) is when he lifts his leg and pees on the escort. It’s over and no sex involved.
Just no. Disgusting and absolutely no.
Gooey likes to be covered in Elmer’s glue. No other brand. The glue is pasted over his entire body and once dry, the escort slowly peels it off. I snap my jaw closed when I realize my mouth is hanging open. The ladies laugh so hard, I hear a few snorts.
From carefully constructed rape scenes to pretending to be teenage girls, I’m shocked to the tips of my toes, and they love every minute of my discomfort. The strange part in all of this is that I find it intriguing. It’s a side of human nature I’ve never imagined. The women here tonight don’t have husbands and children. The ones who have family are out of town on vacations to be sure everyone is safe. I’m surrounded by a group of women who escort for a variety of reasons. Primarily money, but not one of them has a problem with their profession, and they appear secure in who they are. They are quick to laugh and tease and are surprisingly protective of each other. The only sense of discomfort is when the topic of Danita comes up. As a whole, they don’t like her, which surprises me. I can’t help wondering if Moon is aware of the discord within the escorts when it comes to his aunt.
Not my problem, I tell myself.
“Tell us about Moon’s kinks. We know he has them,” Cori asks with wide eyes and a stoic mask that makes the other girls quiet so they can pay attention.
My cheeks heat. Moon says so little in and out of the bedroom. He has a thing for control. It’s not on the level as some of the BDSM stories I’ve been told tonight, and I’m not sure if controlling every aspect of sex is kinky.
“Look at her face,” one of the ladies says. “She’s bright red. Moon has some interesting kinks, you know he does.” I’m now the center of attention.
“Tell us, tell us, tell us,” becomes the chant.
“Stop.” Laughing, I hold up my hand. “He’s a control freak.” I look around the room as they hang on my words. “And that is all I’m saying.”
I get a few oohs and ahhs when Cori says, “Control’s good.”
“Very good,” I tell her in a conspiratorial whisper.
Moans fill the room. I don’t mind that these women have a thing for Moon. So do I. It’s nice that I’m the one who gets him, though.
Gabriella brings in popcorn and tells me that she and Lupe are heading to bed. I call the security room and inform them. I also let them know I’m doing a quick walk through of the house before watching a movie with the ladies. Rack meets me outside the theater door and we make the rounds together.
Something occurs to me. “Please tell me you don’t have sound in there.”
He bites his lip, which looks pretty silly on a guy his size. He releases said lip and answers, “We have sound everywhere but the private bedrooms.”
Crap. “I don’t suppose you turned it off?”
“And miss Moon’s groove moves? Not a chance.”
My red face and evil stare do nothing. We walk through the entire house. Gabriella gave me the complete tour earlier today.
“How did you end up in Moon’s organization?” I ask Rack. It’s none of my business, I’m just curious.
“Moon loaned me money to get my brother out of a Mexican prison. My brother is now in his final year of college to be an engineer. I asked Moon if I could work off part of my debt and he agreed. A year later, I came on full time.”
There are so many facets to Moon. Gaining the loyalty of so many can’t be easy. He seems to do it seamlessly. My thoughts are so conflicted, and it’s hard to piece together all that I know of him. It’s the cold-blooded killer who twists me in knots. Wanting his body shouldn’t be a factor. I’d be lying by not admitting that it is.
The house is secure, and I return to the theater. The ladies decide to watch 9½ Weeks with Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke. It came out when I was around two years old and I’ve never seen it. I understand why they chose it a short time after the movie begins. I squirm in my chair as the story unfolds. I need Moon to hurry home.