Politics. Escorts. Blackmail. Read Online Free PDF Page A

Island doctor, Mr. 81, who was in his fifties, paid top dollar for someone to simply be the girl next door, doing what some girlfriends do. Be his willing, feminine, sexy trophy. No drama allowed.
    For a moment, while with him, Midori had actually forgotten she was a working girl and fell victim to the allure of the imaginary romance he was trying to portray for his own reasons. No one on the island knew who he was, unlike in the city. The two of them were incognito, holding hands, pretending to be a couple though having just met. While she fulfilled his fantasy, she felt cherished and got lost in the allure of the white sugar-sand beaches and spiraling coconut palm trees, under powder-blue skies in mid-eighty-degree weather. He fulfilled her heart’s fantasy without even knowing it.
    The first evening was like a true date. They met at the restaurant in a hotel called Shor. After dinner, he walked her to her own two-bedroom suite, and he went to his. They exchanged nothing more than a good-night peck on the lips.
    The next day after breakfast, he took her shopping at the local boutiques and bought her formal evening wear, a sapphire bustier with a matching thong, skimpy lingerie, and a tangerine bikini. And then they went parasailing and scuba diving on the private beach. That evening they enjoyed a cozy dinner cruise at sunset and danced the night away like newlyweds.
    Later, in his hotel suite, after sipping expensive champagne and feeding each other chocolate-dipped strawberries, she allowed him to live out his desires: French kissing, expert cunnilingus, her riding him until she had an orgasm, or three, and then him mounting her until he got his, all to the sounds of smooth, baby-making jazz. Then, after about an hour’s worth of pillow talk, she went to her hotel room, floating on cloud nine.
    He was the head of thoracic surgery at the University Hospital of Brooklyn, and if Taye Diggs had an older brother, he would be it. Dark skin, white teeth, bald head, sexy but he acted like he didn’t know it. He was a leading, esteemed surgeon who mended hearts for a living. But it became obvious to Midori that he was trying to survive after having his heart broken.
    After the throes of deep sex, while holding “Brooklyn” in his arms, he shared with her: “My wife is cheating on me. I don’t want to give her half, since we didn’t sign a pre-nup. After twenty-two years, we’re in a sexless marriage. It all comes down to the fact that it’s cheaper to keep her. So instead of having a chick on the side who wants more, I hire an escort every now and then. But I’m never with the same girl twice.”
    Midori gave a smile but frowned inside. In her mind she snapped her fingers, Damn.
    The final day they rented scooters to get in some last-minute sightseeing, had lunch, then simply checked out of the hotel and headed off to the airport in separate town cars like it was all a dream. They never even spent one night together.
    During the first-class flight back to New York after the trip, she couldn’t stop thinking about Dr. Feelgood, even though he was old enough to be her father—which, she admitted to herself, added to the attraction. He was the exact type of person who could be the one. More than anything, more than money, she wanted a man who could do all of that to her and for her, and more, and save her from the life of using her vagina for a stranger’s lust. In her mind, it was all just a pipedream.
    But for the moment, back to reality, there she was, flat on her back, mind returning from its travels, starting to feel the tightening of rough, oversized hands around her slender brown throat. The hands of the one her sister warned her about: Bailey Brenner.
    The white envelope was on the dresser. A well-earned twenty-five hundred dollars in cash for the hour was inside it, same as his normal fee, but this time she wasn’t sharing it with the agency. With him, the hour always involved something that pushed the limits.