A/N – I'm pretty sure I don't need to tell you that I don't own Twilight, or Carlisle and Esme, or even the man who stands outside the concert halls rapping about how Help is on the Way. He owns himself, and if you ever see him, spare some change; he would for you.
*****
My hand lingered on the doorknob for minutes, unable to turn it. No part of me wanted to do this, to be subjected to this kind of torture, but I had to. It wasn't just about me anymore, it was about my girls, and this was the only way to keep them safe. They always looked to me as though I was their adoptive mother of sorts, and it was my responsibility to take care of them and make sure they didn't go down with me.
Walking up to the reception desk, I signed my name on a sheet while a small woman in bright red scrubs eyed me suspiciously. Smiling, she handed me paperwork to fill out before turning to look at her other co-workers. Obviously they knew who I was, and I stuck my nose up in the air at them, not giving a damn what they thought.
"Madame E," a plump woman called out before I'd had a chance to finish my papers.
Standing up, I followed her down the long hallway past an array of old paintings that seemed to tell a story as they went along. One caught my eye; it was beautiful, full of color and life, but also of pain and sorrow. Four men stood atop a building, all of them handsome and young; two blondes, two dark haired. Realizing I was alone in the hall now, I rushed to the end to find the room I needed to go into.
"Have a seat and the Doctor will be with your shortly." Eyeing me with a large level of disdain, she exited the room.
Even though the office was large, there were no windows, just more of the same kind of paintings. Behind the large oak desk was a wall filled with books, what seemed like thousands of them. Taking a seat in one of the two soft green chairs, I pulled nervously at the hem of my skirt. Filling out the rest of the paperwork, I laughed at the typical bullshit questions.
Age: Did they really expect me to answer this one honestly? I wrote down 114; I felt that old anyway.
Eye Color: Couldn't they tell from looking at me? I put gold, I wanted to be rich, so why not?
Diet: Why this would even matter I wasn't sure, so I scratched down animal. It was mostly true.
There was a faint knock on the door but I didn't turn. I knew what I would see when I did. This doctor would be like all the others--fat, old and balding. He would look down at me from his high up perch and scold me for my life choices. His glasses would sit on the end of his nose and he would peer over them at me, smug and arrogant.
"Good morning, Madame E" a voice that sounded neither old nor pompous spoke from just behind me.
"You can call me Esme."
"Well Esme, I'm Dr. Cullen, but you may call me Carlisle."
With that he walked around to sit behind his desk; my heart stuttered in my chest and my legs instantly tightened. He wore khaki pants that seemed to be a size too small, allowing for his bulge to be easily seen. A green sweater rested snugly over his chest, which was obviously hard, rock hard. On top of his head was a thick amount of blonde hair, the kind you just want to run your fingers through and tug on.
"So, let's take a look at your file, shall we?" As he sat down at the desk he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning quickly over the many pages. "It seems you're here for some court mandated therapy."
"Seems so." Crossing my legs tightly I leaned forward, allowing my low cut shirt to slip a little lower.
"Well let's get started then." His eyes never ever landed on me; instead he kept them focused on the information in front of him. "Why don't you go have a seat on the couch, make yourself comfortable. I just need to go grab a few things; I'll be back in a minute."
Once he was out of the room I rushed around the desk, grabbing my file and flipping through the pages hastily. There was too much information to take in, but it seemed someone, whoever had written it, knew much more about me than I had assumed. Hearing foot steps in the hall, I replaced the folder, quickly crossing the large office and plopping down on the tanned leather couch.
"So sorry about that. Now where should we start?" His face was strong, yet his eyes held something, a feeling of doubt it seemed. "Maybe we should discuss why you are here."
"Because I have to be." Sarcasm dripped from every word as I slipped to one end of the couch and swung my legs over the armrest, lying down slowly.
"Of course, but that is not what I meant. What I would like to know is why you think you are being forced to see me. As to say, do you feel you need to be here?"
"Do I feel I need therapy?" A laugh escaped my mouth, causing my whole body to shake. Part of me thought his eyes glanced to my chest, but I couldn't be sure. "I think the men who come to my girls need therapy, not me."
"And why do you think they need it?" Leaning back in his chair his legs fell open and my eyes darted away quickly.
"Why not? Most of these men are married yet they come to a brothel. That right there says problem."
"Let's start from the beginning. Tell me how you got started in this profession."
"You mean tell you why I started a whore house? Why else, money."
"Maybe I am not being quite clear enough. How is it you came to open this type of business? Aside from money, what path did you take to end up where you are today?"
"That's a pretty long story."
"We've got plenty of time." He pushed the sleeves up on his sweater to reveal the pale skin of his muscular forearms.
"It started with my parents, just like everyone else's problems." Folding my hands across my stomach, I got comfortable. I had always been the open type. I'd tell anyone anything, but something about his face said I could trust him; trust him enough to really tell him about my past. No more lies, just the God's honest truth. So I did.
I told him about losing my virginity at twelve to one of my dad's friends, about the way he smelled of beer and weed, about how much it hurt, and how I cried and screamed, but he didn't stop. I told him how I confided in my dad but he wouldn't do anything other than say I shouldn't be such a slut. I told him how I ran away, living on the streets of Columbus, spending my days begging for change, my nights selling my body for a place to sleep. I even told him about my only friend then; the homeless man who would rap to the lines outside the concert halls about how help was on the way.
My mouth was running a mile a minute and I delved deeper and deeper into my memory, pulling out anything that could save me. All the while I still had my legs swung over the armrest, swinging my feet back and forth, pumping them faster and faster. I could see Dr. Cullen out of the corner of my eye, his face staring intently down at his yellow legal pad, scribbling down notes or doodles, or whatever it was doctors did.
"So, that's my past." I chanced a glance at him but he didn't return it. His deep blue eyes avoided me like the plague I was. "I guess this is the part where you tell me I run a brothel because I'm a slut and a horrible person. That I need to change it, by changing myself, and how horrible it is that I don't regret what I'm allowing these girls to do. But let me tell you something," sitting up I crossed my legs slowly, leaning my elbows onto my knee so my shirt fell lower and lower. "I'm all these girls have, and if I wasn't giving them a home, and food, and a decent job, they would be selling themselves on the street. I'm trying to save them from that life, from drugs and rape and murder. And anyone who looks down on them should try living their life for a day and they'll see it isn't easy; but it's better than giving up."
He said nothing. Lifting his head a fraction, his eyes gazed into mine, making my heart race and my legs tighten. "Actually, that wasn't even close to what I was going to say."
"Oh." My breath hitched in my throat as he smirked at me, one side of his mouth raising a fraction higher than the other.
"Actually, I agree with you."
"You do?" I wasn't sure if he meant it or not, but I had a hard time believing him.
"I've had hundreds of women come through these doors for court mandated therapy. I know what the other option is like, and exactly what it is you provide for you girls. They're very lucky to have you."
"They are? I mean, they are." I leaned back slightly, allowing my legs to uncross at the knee, but kept them tightly closed.
"This may sound odd coming from my mouth, but most women in your position don't need therapy. I mean, everyone in the world needs therapy, but women like you don't need it any more than anyone else."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"Well, maybe you do need it a little more than others, but it is all to do with your past and not your present."
"If it wasn't for my past, this wouldn't be my present."
"That may be, but neither you nor I will ever know if that is true."
"Let me ask you something, Dr. Cullen, how does your wife feel about you spending your day with whores and sluts?"
"I don't spend my day with whores; I spend my days with women who are just trying to make a living. And if I had a wife, I'm sure she'd be just fine with that." His index finger shot up then, tucking into the neck of his shirt and pulling slightly. "Well, that is the end of your hour, so let me just go sign the court paperwork and you can go."
He got up to leave then, walking quickly from the room with a funny limp in his step. Once he was gone I pulled the compact from my purse, checking my hair and make-up over while I had the chance. Pulling down on the front of my shirt, I stood up, ready to be out of this office the minute I could. There was a light tap on the door then and the woman who had brought me into the room returned.
"Here is your paperwork; you'll need to keep that in a file with the rest to turn in at the end of your sessions. Don't lose it because it will cost you to get another copy." She handed me a manila envelope and motioned for me to follow her down the hall to the exit. "Dr. Cullen will conduct his visit to your place of employment next Friday at eight pm."
"Work visit?"
"Yes, it is part of the therapy, that he go to your job and see the environment you are working in; it will help his assessment."
With that I pushed the exit door open and walked out into the parking lot. It was a typical Nevada day and as I found my car, I exited the lot and headed to the outskirts of town. Nye County was just a few hours from Vegas, but it was always packed with traffic and today was no exception. The ten-mile drive took thirty minutes, and when I finally pulled into the driveway of the old Victorian house it was well past lunchtime.
"We started without you," Bella called as I walked into the dining room. The four girls who lived with me full-time were all sitting around the table, eating salad and chicken.
"That's okay; sorry it took a little longer than I thought, traffic." Pulling out a chair, I sat down at the head of the table and grabbed myself a plate. "I've got a little announcement to make." Rose and Alice looked up from their phones, and Jane came back in from the kitchen. "We are going to have a visitor on Friday, around 8."
"Who?" Alice's small face lit up with excitement.
"The psychiatrist that I'm being forced to go to." As I said the words, each face took on a new expression.
"Is he hot?" Rose leaned forward in rapt interest.
"He isn't here for a call, he is here to evaluate us and hopefully get us out of this trouble we are in."
"I'm so sorry Esme, really, I am." Jane's face wouldn't meet mine as she spoke the words.
"Don't worry about it, dear, it's all in the past. I just hope for the future that you've learned your lesson."
"I have. No more house trips, I promise."
"Good girl."
It was true Jane was the reason we were in this mess, but she wasn't the first one to mess up. Hell, if I had a dime for every time a girl went home with a guy, and in turn crossing over the legal boundary lines of the law...but this was the third strike against us in the last year, so court mandated therapy was in order. At least it wasn't jail; I was much too pretty to go to prison, and enjoyed my freedom too much.
So I would take the punishment for my girls. The blame could all be put on me as long as they learned something from their mistakes. They all deserved a second chance, and it was just a few sessions, what was the worst that could happen?
*****
It was raining; actually, it was storming. Lighting was shooting down all around the house as thunder shook the frame. The day was going from bad to worse with each tick of the second hand. With all of the extra cleaning and preparing the house was going through, the power had gone out several times from being overused, the upstairs toilet wasn't flushing, and worse off, no one would fess up to why.
Every inch of the house was dusted, polished and fluffed in preparation for it's judging. The third floor was locked and blocked off as it always was during business hours. Even though the girls lived up there I never felt they should have to use their own bedrooms for work. Maybe it was in hopes of keeping their spirits up, giving them a safe place where on days when they felt ashamed or disgusted they didn't have to sleep in the bed they had just earned money in.
A knock came on the door and I flittered down the stairs to answer it, reaching back to fluff my curls out with each step. Much like the day before, Dr. Cullen was dressed very professionally, this time in dark trousers with a light blue button-up shirt, and a deep charcoal vest over it. He wasn't wearing a jacket, maybe because of the heat, or because of the fact it would have made him look too professional.
"Please come in, Dr. Cullen." Stepping to the side, I motioned for him to enter and the girls lined up at the bottom of the stairs.
"Good evening ladies." He tilted his head slightly at each as I stepped forward to introduce them.
"These are my girls, Bella, Rosalie, Alice and Jane." Each shook his hand as I said their names, and soon after introductions they excused themselves to prepare for the evening. Ours doors opened each night at 8:30, and customers would come in during allotted time slots for their appointment, much like a doctor's office.
"Would you mind showing me around?"
"Of course not."
First I took him through the dinning room and kitchen, which lay to the left of the entranceway. After we made our way through I locked them up, as they are off limits to customers; we are a brothel, not a restaurant. After that I showed him the small half bath, the back and front parlor, both of which were decorated in period style to match the outside of the house. When we made it back to the entranceway we headed up the stairs to the second floor which contained four bedrooms, the rooms in which the girls conducted their business.
Each room had a different theme based on what the girls wanted. When we went in each room the girls were waiting, smiling politely and answering all of the questions that Carlisle asked. Bella's room was first; it had yellow lace curtains and plain walls. Everything was neat and tidy, and there were only a few posters on the walls, most of them were towns she wanted to visit with lush green landscapes and woods galore.
Rosalie's room was next to hers, and it was very expensive looking, with purple walls and gold frames covering every open space. Alice was right across the hall, bright pink walls with white trim, and an abundance of pictures of beautiful women hanging all around. Jane's was the most simple of them all, with red walls and black satin sheets. All that was left on this floor was a bathroom, which had peach walls and a shower that was seldom used unless prior plans were made.
The girls headed downstairs after that to wait for their clients and begin their work. Pulling a skeleton key from my back pocket, I unlocked the door at the end of the hall, the one that would lead to the third floor. There were four bedrooms on this floor, a full bath, and we skipped over it completely as I didn't feel it necessary to show the girls' private rooms without them being there. At the other end of the hall was a staircase to the top floor; the door was very old and stuck sometimes, but it was always closed.
When we were at the top of the stairs I stepped to the side, allowing him to look around. The room was the entire length of the house and was open from one end to the other. The ceiling slanted upward on each side to meet at a high peak in the middle. First in the room was the sitting area, a red velvet couch and two black high-backed chairs grouped in front of two large bookcases filled with old novels and newer romances. The shelves served as a divider for the room, which on the other side turned to a bedroom with a four-poster bed, a beaten up travel trunk, and a large window with a lounge in front of it.
"Just to the left of the stair case is the closet and to the right is the bathroom. They aren't anything special, though there is a claw foot tub and a pedestal sink that are true to the house. Of course, that means they are so old they cost a fortune to fix, and don't work well, but I wouldn't have it any other way." I found myself rambling and pulled at the sleeves of my shirt, unsure what to say now. "So, that is the grand tour, um, would you like to sit down?" I motioned at one of the black chairs and he lowered himself into it.
"This house is very impressive. Did you have it restored or buy it this way?"
"I did most of it. Restoring old houses is somewhat of a hobby of mine, keeps me busy. There isn't a lot for me to do when the girls are, uh, working. So I look at old books, search for pieces from the right period and then when I can't do it myself, I hire someone to make the changes needed."
"Well you seem to be a woman of many talents, Madame E."
"Please, call me Esme." His face flushed slightly, matching the pink of my cheeks. "Would you like something to drink? I think I still have a few beers in my mini fridge."
"Yeah, sure."
Walking over to the small black table in the corner I lifted up the cloth draped over it to reveal a small miniature fridge. Opening the door I found two beers sitting on the one shelf. I pulled them out slowly, working to steady my hands which were shaking slightly from the nerves the man in the chair was causing me. Taking a few steps back towards him, I held out the beer for him. He took it from my hand, thanking me as I pulled my hand back from him. Before I could move it back to my side his hand closed around my wrist. My eyes had been locked on the ground but when I raised them to the level of the chair he was in, I caught his, which were locked on my face.
With a small amount of force he pulled on my wrist, causing me to lean toward him. He looked almost unsure, as though he didn't realize that at that very moment my whole body was screaming for him. Hesitantly he continued to pull my wrist until our faces were inches from each other. His free hand was on my neck then, his fingers wrapping around the back and helping to pull my face forward to close the space between us.
His lips were magic. They were soft and smooth, and held a fire that didn't seem controllable. Even more magical was his tongue, which darted into my mouth, brushing along my lips in a way that caused my knees to weaken. My hands flew up into his hair, wrapping forcefully around the thick locks and twining themselves in them in hopes they would never be removed. When the position was almost unbearable he stood, pulling me into him with a great deal of force.
Instantly his arms wrapped around me, his hands sliding down my back to cup my butt. With a small amount of pressure he pushed up and I lifted my legs, wrapping them tightly around his hips. Quickly he walked over to the bed, leaning forward to lay me down on the red velvet comforter. His mouth was on my neck now, nibbling and biting at my skin. Before I could blink my shirt was off, thrown up in the air, landing on one of the bedposts. Eagerly my fingers pulled of the vest and tugged his shirt over his head, allowing my eyes to take in the sculpted shape of his upper body.
As the tremors rocked softly through my body his hand slid up my thigh, passing under my skirt. Gently his fingers crossed my panties, cause my leg to twitch slightly. He pushed my skirt up around my hips, pulling down the thin strip of cotton that barely covered my woman parts. I could see his excitement, not only in his eyes, but also in his pants. The bulge was begging to be let free, and I obliged, whipping the belt out of its loops and unzipping his trousers in a way that made his heart race. His fingers were magic as they entered me, making my mind go blank and my whole body freeze.
Before I could return the favor, he pushed me farther up the bed so my head was resting on the soft feather pillow. Using his knee, he pushed my legs farther apart before taking one in his hand. He pushed it up, in the air, making my legs look like a pair of open scissors. Draping it over his shoulder I raised my hips, letting him know I was more than ready for him. For one horrible minute he paused, just centimeters from entering me; I could feel him against me and a small whimper left my mouth.
A smirk formed on his face then, as though he were taking immense pleasure from teasing me. Pulling my body closer and closer to him he finally gave in, slowly pushing himself inside me. My head erupted with pleasure, which in turn flew through my body and burst out of my mouth in the form of moans. He was unlike anyone I'd ever been with. Instead of falling into a typical rhythm, keeping a steady pace, he kept changing things up, first going very slow in a sensual rocking motion, then slamming into me as though he were trying to break through to the other side.
My fingers clawed at the bed, at his body, trying to dig in to anything they could. He had dropped my leg to enter me at a slightly different angle, and in response my legs wrapped and locked themselves behind him. Sweat coated his back and the feeling of it sent my libido racing. Just when I thought my body couldn't handle any more he pulled out, grabbing me around the waist and flipping me over. As he found me again, he worked just as hard as before, hitting a spot in me that hadn't been hit in years. Leaning my head down I took the pillow in my mouth, muffling the cries that were involuntarily escaping.
I could feel him throbbing inside me and I knew the end was almost in sight. Turning to look at him I saw him lick his fingers before reaching around me to massage me, causing my legs to almost give out under me. With a few last pumps I felt the orgasm coming; it was building and building before breaking free, like water bursting through a damn. My whole body started to shake as it overtook me and my head shot back as I fought to catch my breath.
Moments later it was his turn and he shoved deeper and deeper before finally collapsing on top of me. We were both heaving as we lay there, sinking deeper and deeper into the soft bed. When he was finally able to move he rolled onto his side, pulling me along with him. I could feel his soft lips as they planted kisses all along my shoulder. Running my fingers gently along his back, I thought of what to say, what to do.
Suddenly I felt unsure about things. Was he always like this with his clients? Was I just another fuck? He didn't know me, he surely couldn't care about me, and with that thought my heart started to hurt. Pulling away from him I stood up, pulling my skirt back down and retrieving my shirt from its hiding spot. The look on his face caused me to falter. He was hurt.
"I'm sorry," he said, not moving an inch. "This wasn't right, was it? I mean, this isn't what you wanted, I'm sure. It was wrong of me to assume so."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I walked to the other side of the room then, crossing my arms tightly against my chest.
"Look, Esme, this isn't me. " Sitting up, he moved to the edge of the bed. "I mean, I don't do this, but there is just something about you, I can't get you out of my mind."
"You mean you don't do this with all your clients?"
"No." He looked utterly disgusted at the thought. "Actually I've never done this with a client before. I could get fired for this you know, but I don't care, in the few hours we've spent together, I've never been happier. I'm crazy about you."
"You are?" Walking back over, I sat on the edge of the bed.
"Extremely." He took my hand then, kissing it softly. "I hate to do this," he turned to look at the clock then. "But I have to leave; technically this is a business call."
"Well then, it seems your business isn't so different from mine." We both laughed softly and I handed him his shirt from off the floor. "Come on, I'll walk you out."
When we got to the bottom of the stairs he pulled me in close, the smell of lust and sweat seeping out of his skin causing the memories to run across my mind. His lips found my forehead then, resting there for a few minutes before trailing down to my mouth.
"So, I will see you for your session tomorrow then." He started to walk out the door but just as he was ready to take the first step, he turned. "Oh, and by the way, I'm going to be changing all your sessions. From now on, I'll be making house calls." He winked before bounding down the stairs and climbing behind the wheel of his car.
As the black BMW made it's way down my driveway, I leaned against the doorframe, taking in the cool night air. My heart was almost beating out of my chest as I thought about the night. When I'd been assigned court mandated therapy I always asked myself what was the worst that could happen, I'd never stopped to think, what was the best that could happen. Carlisle was the best. He was the man that could change my life forever and help me to become what I truly wanted to be. He was my savior.
*****
A/N
This one shot goes out to my once and hopefully future roomie Jen. I wish I could really give you Carlisle, but this will have to do. Thanks for everything, especially the Christmas present! I can't wait until June, LA won't know what hit it!
As always thanks to my beta LMW who makes the best green bean casserole.
To my [t20s] for putting a constant smile on my face, and for spending so much time in the gutter with me. I would be lost without you all!