Duplicity

Kristina
M. Sanchez

This book is a work of fiction. All of the names,
characters, places, and events in this book are either products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously.

This book or any portion thereof may not be
reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.

Copyright © 2013 by Kristina M. Sanchez

All rights reserved.

Cover image
©
Estelle Simon - Fotolia.com

For
Melly
.
I would never be where I am
today if you hadn’t been there to push. I love you.

Chapter 1

It was obvious this kid had never been in place like this, or at
the very least it was still new enough that he was nervous. It was almost endearing,
the way he glanced around like he was about to get caught any second by his
parents .
 . . or his priest. That was what
Lilith looked for. The guilt was a sign they still had a conscience to go along
with their deep wallets.

Not targeting the cocky assholes for a private dance was a lesson
most of the girls didn’t
  need
to be told twice.
Those men were
the type who not only believed they owned the world but thought they owned all
the people in it.
They were a dangerous breed who
didn’t value life in general and people like Lilith even less. Most the men who
came to the club were civilized—somewhat entitled, but civilized. Still, Lilith
was always careful. All it would take was running into one prick who thought of
her as expendable instead of human. With one of that variety, she was as likely
to end up beaten as anything.

But this boy wouldn’t do that.

“
Spotted your prize for the evening, Lilith?
”

Lilith
glanced over her shoulder to find her boss’s eyes not on her but on her quarry.
Smith Regan ran the club and kept his girls in a wide array of scanty clothing.

His lips quirked up in a
sly, Cheshire-cat grin.
“Yes, I see.” He tapped a finger
against his lips. “He’s quite handsome.”

Lilith’s scoff spoke for her.
What the fuck does that matter?

Smith liked to pretend he was some romantic—like the women in his
employ didn’t trade their bodies for money. Like everyone there was just
looking for the love of their lives. He saw himself as some kind of purveyor of
high-class goods. He was so
genteel,
he didn’t let the
men and women in his employ curse.

But Lilith had to admit he was right. The boy was handsome. There
was a nice cut to his features and just the right amount of stubble over his
jaw to make him look casual and not sloppy.
Sandy hair that
looked as though she had already gotten what she wanted from him.
He
wasn’t a man anyone in their right mind would kick out of bed. Then again, the
point of Lilith’s game was to get him into bed.

This was the aim of Smith’s little club. It was a casual place,
not like a strip club where one might expect girls getting naked to a sexy
tune. There was a stage, but no set show times. For the most part, the girls
mingled, talking to the men who came in until they got a feel for what they
wanted most. There was the usual gyrating and stripping, but if these men were
so inclined, there was also a hidden menu.

“Good hunting,” Smith said, smacking her ass as he went to do
whatever the fuck it was he did while his people were making him money.

“Hey, Gin,” Lilith called to one of the other girls. Big-
titted
, blue-eyed, improbably blond-haired Ginger Morgan
sauntered over. Her blue eye shadow sparkled, and she wore her hair in
pigtails. Innocent this girl was not, but the boys liked her angelic act.
“
Gotta
mark on the last table.
Join me?”

“Sure!” Her voice was all perk and sunshine—ever the cutie. There
was a practiced prance to her step as she moved to Lilith’s side, and together
they went out on the stage. They were both wearing ultra-short plaid skirts and
button down white shirts.
Two little girls from school are we.

The sandy-haired kid was sitting at the center of the little crew
he’d come in with. They were all pounding him on the back.
Perfect.
If
this was some sort of celebration for him, it would be all the easier. Lilith
plopped herself down on the edge of the stage just in front of him, legs spread
wide because up-skirt never got old. Ginger came to kneel behind her, playing
with Lilith’s long, dark hair.

The smile on Lilith’s face almost faltered when she realized that
rather than looking at her crotch as was expected—and usual—the kid was staring
right at her face. Fuck, that wasn’t normal. Maybe he wasn’t going to be as
easy as all that.

Lilith put one hand down on the stage, leaning to the side to show
off her profile. She put on a coy look and steeled herself. If he didn’t like
what he saw, so be it. Maybe she wasn’t his type. Either way, it didn’t matter.
She was going to change his mind, if only for tonight.

Running the edge of her ridiculously high heeled shoe along his
arm, Lilith let a sweet smile spread across her face. Ginger’s hands were on
her shoulders rubbing and teasing a slow trail down the front of her blouse.
“Hey there, sweetie.
How
ya
doin
’ tonight?”
The
bubble-gum sweet words burned like acid in Lilith’s throat, but as luck would
have it, she’d mastered her gag reflex eons before.

The boy swallowed hard, and his friends laughed. One of the big,
beefy guys, who
was
, up close, not at all bad looking
himself, clapped the kid on the shoulder. “It’s my baby brother’s
twenty-first!”

Matching brown eyes, Lilith noted. Of course they were related.

Leaning backward, Lilith found a comfortable headrest on Ginger’s
more than ample cleavage. She let out a little moan—the kind that slipped out
when one tasted the sweetest chocolate.
“Happy birthday,
tiger.”

Ginger rested her head against Lilith’s and giggled in her ear.
“Lily’s got some presents you can unwrap,” she said. She giggled as her hands
drifted down to cup Lilith’s breasts.

The kid’s lips quirked.
“Your
name is Lily.” His triumphant tone made it sound as though this was a
revelation he’d been eager for.

“I can be whoever you need me to be, baby brother.” She trailed
her foot down his middle. He glanced down, watching the tip of her high heel
graze his shirt, and then looked back up at
her .
 . .
amused?
Well, that was a switch-up from her first assessment. He wasn’t
blushing anymore. In fact, as he continued to look straight into her eyes, he
looked anything but nervous.

What is this fucking
prick
playing at?

Holding her temper was not a talent Lilith possessed. It was lucky
the kid’s brother laughed and stood. He pressed his back against the stage so
he was looking at her over his shoulder. He leaned back, craning until his
mouth was close to Lilith’s ear. “My brother needs to relax a bit. All he does
is study.” As he spoke his hand snaked along the waistband of her skirt, and
Lilith felt the familiar crispness of rolled up dollar bills tucked against her
skin. “Maybe you could give him a more private dance?”

~0~

Big Brother ponied up enough for a little bit of hands on fun.
Maybe there was enough for a little teasing with her tongue flicking against
his cock, and he could come on her tits. They always liked that. She supposed it
was because it was tawdry.

But when they got to the private room, the boy leaned up against
the door instead of flying into the comfortable chair that was set aside for
him. Lilith raised an eyebrow, half of her mouth lifting as she looked on him.
“You’re not nervous, are you?”

His laugh was light, but Lilith, skilled as she was at reading
people, could hear the slight shake in the sound. “No.”

Lilith took a slow step in his direction, raking her eyes over
him. “Well, come on in and sit down, stud. Then we can have some fun.”

He cocked his head, his gaze curious as he looked on her. “Is it
fun for you?”

That stopped her forward motion. Her grin faltered, and she
blinked at him.

“It just seems odd. You don’t even know my name.” His lips crinkled
in what seemed like amusement. “And I don’t even know if Lily is your real
name.”

Oh, so that was his game. He wanted to play the flirt. Lilith
resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she put on a slow, devilish smile. “My
full name is Lilith.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, remembering a
conversation from one of her favorite books. “If I was going to make one up I’d
use Cherry Daiquiri.”

His eyes lit in recognition. “But blonds are more likely to get
skin cancer.”

Lilith started, surprised that he knew the
Choke
reference.
“Nice, kid.”
She gifted him with an impressed smile
she didn’t have to fake for once. “So what is your name?” she asked as she slid
down to her knees in front of him.

“T—
um .
 . . shit.” He
stumbled over his words as she began rubbing him through his jeans. She smirked
to herself. Men were easy once their cocks were out. “I’m Trey.”

“Well, happy birthday, Trey.” She grinned up at him from
underneath her eyelashes as she undid his button and yanked down his jeans. It
wasn’t long before the wordy college kid was only making guttural sounds as he
threw his head back against the door. And as she worked him over with firm
hands, flicking her tongue against his cock once every minute or so, she also
spoke in a quiet, sultry tone, planting the seed in his mind of the many other
pleasures that awaited him for just a little bit more than his brother had
offered up.

She almost stopped talking when she felt his hand in her hair. For
a moment, Lilith waited for the inevitable hard grip, but it never came.
Instead, he caressed her, his fingers playing along the edges of her ear as she
brought him to the height of his pleasure.

But no sooner had he caught his breath then he was talking again,
asking too many questions, and Lilith didn’t understand why he cared.

“Do you enjoy it? Is there any pleasure at all for you?”

“I like you, and you like me. What else is there to know?” She
tried to distract him with the way she leaned, her legs out, spreading, hinting
at more.

“So you do enjoy it then?”

He was harder to read than he should have been. His hands on her
waist and the way his eyes raked over her body made her think she’d won. He
wanted more, but his questions hinted that he wanted something from her that
had nothing to do with physical pleasure.

“What do you want to do here, kid?” she asked in exasperation.
“Save me? Bring me to God? Convince me to give up my wicked ways and come live
with you in your fancy world?” It wouldn’t have been the first time it
happened.

His smile was sheepish and a little shy. “No”

“Then what?”
Her
time was money and there were other marks to be had if he’d had gotten all he
wanted for the evening.

Rather than speak, Trey brought out a large bill.

Lilith looked at it without touching it and then back up at him.
“That’ll get you a decent blow job.”

He screwed up his lips at one side of his face and held up his
other hand, fanning out nine more bills.

“
Well .
 . . now we’re
talking.”

~0~

They left Big Brother and his friends to be entertained by the other
girls. The most Lilith was expecting was a fancy hotel room. She had to hide
her surprise when he took her home.

Trey’s home was a ginormous apartment within easy walking distance
of campus. When they got inside, despite the fact she’d already had his cock in
her hands, some of that previous, shy demeanor had made
a
reappearance
. He tried to make small talk. She laughed, slipping her
hand in his. “You’re not paying me for chit-chat.”

He took her hand, leading her to his room, and again Lilith was
surprised. He had to know he could have her anywhere, in any position he cared
to take her. Even then, he only sat on the bed beside her.

Then he asked the inevitable question, the one she’d expected and
was always prepared for. “What made you do this with your life?”

This was the reason Lilith had targeted the kid. Experience had
taught her that his conscience sought a way to soothe his guilt over what he
was doing. The sadder the story she spun, the more likely he was to come back.
She never knew what they told themselves—maybe that she was enjoying herself
and that was worth something, or maybe that they were saving her in some way.
All she knew was a little bit of sympathy got her as close to a steady paying
job as she was bound to have any time soon.

So she told him what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t her tale. In
fact, it was something she’d heard in a song by one of her favorite artists.

“I was just a kid. He was my dad’s best friend.”
A sad smile.
“I didn’t even know what sex was.”

His hands were on her then, but not on her body. No, he stroked
her face with the lightest of touches—as if she were precious, fragile glass.
When he kissed her, his touch gentle, she knew every kiss was an apology. This
wasn’t an uncommon response. Most of these guys were decent people. She never
asked what they were sorry for—she just let them apologize with their bodies
moving with hers.