Working Girl (21 page)

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Authors: A. E. Woodward

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Working Girl
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Pushing aside my discomfort, I nod. Without a word, I grind my hips against him, urging him to go on, placing all my trust in him, knowing that Emerson will make this good. His lips touch the skin behind my ear and he slowly glides himself in and out, the pain slowly dissipating as he finds his rhythm, the overwhelming feeling of pleasure taking control. Every point where our bodies connect is electrified, and I begin lifting my hips to meet his, the sensations slowly building as the heaviness in my stomach increases with each passing moment.

Emerson places his forehead to mine and groans. “Fuck, Presley. Holy. Fuck.” His pace quickens, the mattress lightly scraping against the floor as he continues working between my legs. I moan, letting the pleasure I feel be known and allowing Emerson to revel in the moment. There is no more thought, no more trying to process the feelings that course through my body as I meet him thrust for thrust. My breaths are shallow, my skin slick and the ache in my belly unfurls, making its way through my body when Emerson groans and his muscles contract under my hands. He stills for a moment before collapsing next to me.

Looking over at me, he smiles. “Sorry. I intended for that to be a whole lot better for you, but you felt so damn good.”

Pulling the sheet over my body, I laugh, the heat in me still ablaze. It worries me. Making me nervous that this is what I feel like after sex.

Unsatisfied.

Emerson shakes his head, pulling the sheet off me and reaching between my legs. His movement surprises me, and I gasp as he places his fingers at my entrance. I grab his wrist, preventing him from going any further. Curious, he looks at me.

“I’m . . . ummm . . . I’m pretty sure . . .” I struggle to find the right words, and I can feel the heat in my cheeks as tears prick the back of my eyelids. This was a bad idea. I can’t do this. I’m beyond embarrassed and I don’t want him to do anything—

“I don’t care, Presley. A little blood never killed anybody. Besides, I want to make you feel as good as you made me.”

Despite being nervous, I drop his wrist and he slides his fingers into my already tender body. The intrusion is welcomed and I writhe against his hand as he works me, taking my nipple in his mouth while he massages my insides, and it doesn’t take long before I’m riding the shockwaves. I cry out as my muscles spasm around his hand and he smirks, watching me ride out the pleasure.

Once I come down, he kisses me before removing his fingers. “Next time we do it together,” he says with a smile. I lie motionless, unable to move, but most of all feeling satiated. The worries melt away with just a touch of his hand. Everything will be okay, because Emerson will take care of me.

In every way humanly possible.

WALKING DOWN THE SIDEWALK
, I notice there’s a little more pep in my step than usual. I’m blissfully unaware of the bad, and for the first time in my whole life I think I’m actually happy. I smile and touch my tongue to my lips as memories from the night before play in my mind like a video reel.

His touch.

His words.

Just . . .
him
.

Emerson is a gift and I will do everything in my power to ensure that I keep him. He is becoming the best thing in my life, I understand that now, and I need him like I need air. Without him I will drown.

Fumbling with my keys, I manage to unlock the front door to the brothel. It isn’t open yet, but I’m behind with the books and I’ll have to work through the day to get caught up. Pushing my way into the office and picking up the folders I need, I quickly turn on my heel and bump straight into Big Earl’s chest. I step back, lifting my head to look up at him. Anytime I’m near him, his size intimidates me—they don’t call him Big Earl for nothing.

“Working overtime, Presley?” he asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Yes, sir.”

“Such a hardworking girl. A working girl of sorts—just not the kind I’d hoped you’d be.” He laughs and the sound of his voice sends shivers through my body as I smile and nod at his backhanded compliment. “You know, Presley, with your mother gone and you not technically being one of my girls, we’ve got to talk about your living arrangements.”

My heart races. This is it. The moment I’ve known was coming all along. “But I work for you,” I offer. My voice sounds weaker than it had just a moment before. Prepping my work area, I start laying out the folders. They shake as I carefully set them down and I quickly look over my shoulder at him, still standing in the middle of the office.

He waves his hand flippantly. “You’re replaceable. Any idiot can balance the books and put together invoices.”

His words punch my gut like an iron fist and I stop in my tracks. I’ve stupidly gone through the last few weeks thinking that my position is enough, but it isn’t. An uncontrollable sob escapes from my mouth and it startles me. One of the things I’ve learned over the years I’ve been here is to never show fear because Big Earl will seize upon anything he sees as a weakness. Setting back my shoulders, I clutch one of the manila folders tightly to my chest, hoping that the pressure will keep me grounded, that somehow I will manage strength.

“So . . .” he starts, his eyes not on me but on his fingers as he pretends to inspect his nails. “If you’re not going to replace your mother, you’ve got to get your ass out of Menses Mansion. This isn’t a goddamn charity, Presley. Girls around here have to earn their keep.”

The telltale prick of tears sting my eyelids, but somehow I muster all the strength I have left and I choke back the sobs that threaten to bring me to my knees. “I work harder than anyone else around here, Earl,” I argue, my back still turned to him. I refuse to let him break me. He will not rule me like he ruled Momma.

I hear his feet shuffle before I feel him behind me, pressing himself against my backside in a way that makes me sick. I want to push him away, but I can’t; I’ve already fought too much. If I say another word he’ll beat me up. Of that I have no doubt. It’s his go-to way of making people ‘see things his way.’

He leans forward so that his face is right next to mine, his chest pressing into my back, his lips at my ear. The stench of stale cigarettes on his breath makes me want to gag, but I clench my jaw and remain still. “But you see, in this business, if you ain’t fuckin’, you ain’t working,” he whispers.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, and immediately I want to take my words back. I shy away from him. This is going to hurt.

He laughs a laugh that would send chills down anyone’s spine. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” I flinch as he uses his hand to brush the hair off my shoulder and my heart thunders in response. Attempting to ignore his presence, I focus on taking paperwork out of the folders in front of me, pretending like I’m actually working, when in reality I’m so damn scared I can’t think.

As if his first threat wasn’t enough, he continues to twist the knife into my already broken heart. “Only my
girls
can live in Menses Mansion, and Chrissy’s pulled your weight long enough.”

The last sentence pulls me from my anxiety-ridden daze. “What do you mean? What does Chrissy have to do with any of this?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” he laughs again, causing my skin to crawl. “Your precious friend has been sucking twice the dick just so you have a place to lay your head at night.” He reaches down with his hand and adjusts himself for further emphasis. “And while she could suck the chrome off my tailgate anytime, it’s just not enough anymore.”

The revelation has me reeling. How could I not have realized that Chrissy has been protecting me for the last few months? The answer is clear: I’ve been too wrapped up in living out my dreams to notice. Choking on my sadness, I ponder the possibilities. I could make a run for it, but what little money I have would eventually run out and, with no formal qualifications, I have nothing to offer any workplace. Thinking hard, I wonder about Emerson and if he would be my sanctuary. This thought is short-lived because I wouldn’t want to put that kind of weight on his shoulders. Plus, he would want some kind of explanation and I’ve worked too damn hard to keep this life from him to cave now. This has come to a head, and I can do one of two things: let it ruin me, or let it jumpstart my new beginning. This could be the start of my newfound independence. Big Earl doesn’t have to rule me anymore. I could start navigating life on my own. It would take time and would be hard as hell, but I can do this. I haven’t come this far to let Big Earl win.

Spinning around, I look up into Big Earl’s eyes and swallow the nervousness in my throat. “I’d rather be homeless than be one of your whores!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he clucks with his tongue, backing away from me toward the door. “It’s such a shame. But that’s fine, Presley.”

“It is?” The words are intended as a statement, but my shock causes them to sound more like a question.

“It is. You can leave, go on and pretend that you were never a part of this life, but you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Chrissy.”

With that one word, tears spill from my eyes. I already know where he’s taking this. “You wouldn’t,” is all I manage to say, but I know in my heart that he would.

“If you leave, I will take every ounce of anger that I have out on your precious best friend. She will bleed for you to have a better life, and then I’ll fuck her senseless. Day after day, I will own that pussy because, well, that’s what I do. Do you want that, Presley? Do you want Chrissy to have to keep paying for you to live the life she never will?”

Still unable to breathe, I slowly shake my head.

“So you see, it’s pretty easy. You start earning your keep, or I start making the people that love you pay. Just like your Momma did.”

The air leaves my lungs and I feel a deep burn in my chest knowing that although Big Earl has given me options, I have no choice. I can’t possibly allow Chrissy to keep protecting me by selling herself. This is it. The end of all my hopes and dreams. My nightmare has become my reality, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Tears spill faster from my eyes. I know better than to fight it. This was always what was in my future; I’d been a fool to think otherwise. It was time to put on my big girl panties and start taking care of myself.

The problem with being caught off guard like this is that it forces you to examine every possible scenario, without giving you ample time to do so. There are so many different things to consider, and my mind races, trying to form a coherent plan. Maybe if I tell him I’ll do it, I can get to Chrissy and we can run away together. We can escape together, with our minds and bodies still intact.

Taking a deep breath, I make a decision to act the part; to convince Big Earl that he’s won. Then hopefully make an escape plan, before it’s too late.

“Fine,” I whisper, hoping that I’m selling my lie well enough.

Big Earl’s eyebrows pop up. “Excuse me?” I can tell that he’s just as shocked as I am. Even I couldn’t have predicted that this was how today was going to go.

“I said,
fine
.” I wipe the tearstains off my cheeks, hoping that I can numb the onslaught of emotions. “You’re about to get your wish. I’ll be one of your
girls
, Big Earl.” I sound so convincing that I almost believe the words I’m saying. He smiles and a deep chuckle reverberates through his chest.

“Perfect.” He pauses and cracks his knuckles. “Now get your ass into room number four.”

Panic rises up my throat, leaving a burning trail in its wake. This wasn’t part of my plan. I need to get to Chrissy. “Why?”

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