Previously: At a party celebrating Poppy's return to university, Hannah caught Ben and Poppy together. When Harry got rough with her, she washed her hands of him...or so she thought.


Chapter Three

Hannah

In my line of work, you have to keep up with the changing times. The economy is on a downward spiral and millions are losing their jobs. But lucky for me, prostitution is competitive, and I'm the best in the business. I love being an independent escort. It means having the freedom to set my own hours, vet my own clients, and keep all of the profits, instead of handing forty percent over to a madam. Of course, it has its downsides as well. Without an agency, I have no one to call if a client gets rough, so I have to handle it on my own. Luckily, I've rarely had problems.

I don't often get days off. If I'm not in business –even for a day—my clients will look elsewhere. And some clients, I don't want to lose. I know, it's wrong to play favorites, but what can I say? I never have been one for following the rules. I imagine that's part of my charm.

Having the freedom to schedule my own hours, I'd decided to take the day off to rest up and clean house. Plus, it's that time of the month and I don't quite feel like stuffing bits of sponge up myself. Ah, this is the life. I stretched out on the bed, the blankets wrapped around my body against the chill of the central air.

It's been two long since I've had time to take a day to relax and do the things I need to do to stay sane. I haven't read a book in ages, and back before I was an escort, I used to read nonstop. I haven't had time to catch up on my favorite programmes, like the West Wing, and I most definitely haven't had time to do my spring cleaning yet. I know that the reason I've been burying myself in work is to keep my mind off Ben, but after what happened a few weeks ago at Poppy's party, well, he's no longer on my mind. So, now I no longer have a best friend, but it's all right. I've still got my clients. And what more could a girl ask for?

I was just finishing my sit-ups when I heard my mobile ringing. Wiping my forehead with a towel, I got up and looked down at the screen. It was Stephanie. I haven't heard a word from Harry in over two weeks. I guess maybe he finally got the hint. Now, my life can finally return to normal. Shrugging, I answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Long time, no see."

"Yeah, well, when someone's daughter maliciously goes out her way to make my life hell, I tend to avoid them," I replied, my tone cold.

"That's all in the past, dear." Stephanie sounds like she's in a good mood. Odd.

Sighing, I sat down on the edge of my bed. "What do you want, Stephanie?"

"No need to get testy. I'm doing you a favor."

"What favor?"

"How does eight hundred pounds sound?"

"What's the job?" Eight hundred pounds sounds fantastic. I know, it's my day off and all, but for eight hundred pounds, I'm willing to forgo scrubbing my floors. After all, we don't want my poor knees to give out, do we?

"An old friend's son is visiting London tomorrow from Edinburgh."

"And?"

"And he wants to have a good time. I suggested you."

"I don't even work for you anymore," I remind her.

"But you know me. I'm so selfless that I can't help but think of you at a time like this."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes. Stephanie, selfless? And I'm the bloody queen.

"So, what do you say?"

"What time?"

"Say, two? He's arriving tonight and I figure that'll give him enough time to rest up and be fully recharged for tomorrow's games." She laughed wickedly.

"All right. What's his name?"

"Ross."

"Ross." I grabbed my diary and scribbled in it. "Are we doing it here or at his hotel?"

"His hotel."

"All right." I pause, feeling bad that I'd been so rude to her earlier. "Thanks, Stephanie."

"Don't mention it. Oh, and I expect my forty percent."

"Of course, you do."

"Bye."

I hung up and lay back on the bed, smiling. Eight hundred pounds. I know it doesn't sound like a lot after writing a best-selling novel, but it costs a lot of money to do what I do. Between clothes, lingerie, shoes, condoms, toys, accessories, makeup, nail polish, and cab fair, I'm lucky I'm not broke.

I rolled over and grabbed my pack of cigarettes off the nightstand, taking one out and lighting it. I suddenly didn't feel much like cleaning or hanging around the house. I wanted to go out and have drinks at a nightclub. But, unfortunately, I don't have anyone to go with. My sister, Jackie, hates going out, and I don't think I can tolerate her, anyway. And Bambi and Byron are secluded in their love nest planning for their future together. So, who can I get to go out with me?

A memory came back in a flash. It was two weeks ago, at Poppy's party. I'd been talking to Charlotte. She'd suggested I stop by her dungeon some time for a free S & M tutorial. Maybe, just maybe, I could parlay that into a trip out? It was worth a shot.

Picking my phone back up, I scrawled through my contacts until I got to Charlotte's name. Chewing my lip, I pressed the call button and listened as the line rang and rang. "What?" Charlotte demanded.

"Hi. Uh…Charlotte?"

"I said no speaking!" I heard the sound of whip cracking and someone crying out. Ooops, I must've gotten her on the job.

"Charlotte?"

"Yes, Belle?" Suddenly, her tone was lighter, friendly even.

"I was doing some thinking and I was hoping maybe we could get together and…"

"Ah, you finally decided to take me up on my offer. I didn't think it would take you two weeks." She laughed.

"Sort of." I puffed on my fag. "How about instead of an S & M lesson we go out."

"Out? I'm not a lesbian, Belle."

"No!" I laughed, embarrassed. "Not out out, but out, like, as in mates."

"Hold on a second." There was a crash in the background and then, "You stay in there until I tell you to come out."

I couldn't help but shake my head. It takes a lot of guts to do what Charlotte does. I'd dabbled in S & M with a regular client before, and it just wasn't for me. I don't have that much anger inside me. Plus, I find the whole thing demeaning. I heard more crashing in the background and I started to whistle the theme from Jeopardy.

"I'm back," Charlotte announced, friendly once again.
"Okay. So, how do you feel about going out tonight as mates?"

"I suppose we could give it a shot." She was quiet for a moment. "What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. I haven't been out to the clubs in ages."

"Never mind, I know just the place."

"Where?"

"It's a surprise."

"Oh." I felt my stomach knot up in fear. Knowing Charlotte, there was no possibility that's out of bounds. She's up for anything.

"Be ready at nine. I'll pick you up."

"Okay."

"I'll see you, then. You repulse me!" I heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh with a loud crack! before I disconnected.

I sat there for a minute, staring at my phone. What the hell was I thinking?


I spent the rest of the day doing laundry and organizing my closet. Maybe a day off every now and then wasn't so bad. Now that I don't have a live-in boyfriend to take care of the house, I often find myself with a lot of chores to do. And with my hours, I don't feel like coming home and scrubbing the house from floor to ceiling. Maybe I should look into getting myself a housekeeper. But then, I'd have to hide my sex toys…

After a light dinner of take-out Chinese, I took a long, luxuriating bath and got ready to go out. I wasn't sure what to wear, but I figured that since I was going out with Charlotte, it was wise to go with something that's appropriate for any occasion. After going through my whole closet, I settled on a black cocktail dress. I'd just have to be careful not to spill anything on myself. It was one of my favorites and I didn't want it ruined.

I had just finished applying my lip liner when I heard Charlotte pounding on the door. Apparently she hadn't gotten enough at work. "Come in," I yelled down to her, fluffing my hair in the mirror.

"Belle?" Charlotte called.

"I'll be right down." I wiped excess lip liner off of the corner of my mouth and went down to greet her.

Charlotte was dressed in a body-hugging black leather dress. She looked amazing. No wonder she was Stephanie's new favorite. "Hi," I said, smiling brightly.

"Hi." She cast her eyes around, taking in the room.

"Thanks for coming."

"It's all right. My husband had to go to bed early, anyway."

"Oh. For work?"

"Yes." She picked up a lamp, examined it and set it back down. A cloud of dust flew up at her. Shit!

"And what exactly does he do, your husband?" I asked, hoping that by changing the subject, she'd forget about the dust.

"He's an accountant."

"And he's okay with what you do?"

She shrugged. "We have an open relationship. We're both nonconformists and realists. We know that monogamy is nothing but an illusion."

"I can't argue that one."

"You would have argued it a few months ago."

"Yeah, but that was then." I sighed. "Things are different now. I finally realized that there's no room for another man in my life. I've got dozens of blokes in my bed on a weekly basis. Why bring another one in?"

"I'll drink to that."

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked, slapping my forehead. I'd been so busy chatting that I'd forgotten my manners.

"What have you got?"

"Let me see."

I led her into the kitchen, our heels clacking on the floor. I don't know why, but I love that sound. I opened my liquor cupboard and eyed the labels. "Beer, scotch, Sangria, Absolut…"

"Do you have Bacardi?"

"I think I do…somewhere…" I reached into the way back and pulled out a bottle. "Here you go." I handed her the bottle and a glass

"Thanks." She poured herself a glass and downed it. "This is my favorite," she admitted, pouring herself another.

"Go ahead and have it. I don't really like it, to be honest. That was Ben's…." My voice trailed off as I was once again confronted with the absence of my best friend.

Charlotte gulped down another glass and filled her cup again. "Here." She held it out to me. "You're going to need this."

"Thanks." Grudgingly, I swallowed the spirit, feeling my throat burn as it went down. I crinkled my face up in disgust.

"You get used to it after a few shots," Charlotte intimated.

I handed her the glass back. "So, where we going?"

"A club I know of."

"Where is it?"

"In town. Not too far from here actually."

"Oh, Fusion?"

"No."

"Then which one?"

"I'm not going to tell you. Now, stop fretting."

"Fine." I grabbed my handbag. "Ready?"

"Ready,"

Charlotte had borrowed her husband's car, a sleek black Prius. I'd never been in one before and couldn't stop admiring it. "This is really nice," I murmured, stroking the leather interior. "How much do these go for?"

"Brand new?" Charlotte glanced over at me. "About twenty five hundred pounds."

"More than I can afford."

"Not if you keep it up. Stephanie says your worth quite a bit."

"On a good day." I laughed. "Still, what we do isn't exactly cheap."

"Not in the slightest, but it's the best job in the world."

"I couldn't agree more."

Before long ,we pulled up outside of the club. I could hear the deafening thumpa thumpa of the techno music from here. Great. I looked out my window and saw the long line of men waiting to get in. They were all dressed in leather. Charlotte had taken me to an S & M club. A gay S & M club. I didn't even know they existed! I haven been to a gay club since uni. My friend Anthony had bribed me into going under the pretense that there were a lot of hot guys there. Of course, what I didn't consider at the time was that they were all gay. I'd spent the evening watching him grinding up against every man in the club. How fun for me.

Charlotte got out and locked the door. "Surprise," she sang, grinning.

"You brought to a gay S & M bar," I said under my breath so as not to offend.

"I come here all the time. Trust me, you'll love it."

"I'd better." I fell into step behind her as she approached the door. One smile at the doorman and we were waved right through, cutting in front of everyone. I guess maybe she does come here often. "How did you do that?" I asked.

"My brother owns the club."

As soon as we were through the door, the deafening music became even louder. I wanted to cover my ears but something kept my arms firmly at my sides. How the hell did these guys stand it? Charlotte wove her way expertly through the crowd, making her way to the bar. I couldn't hear what she ordered, but guessed it was another Bacardi. The bartender, a cute, ripped guy with penetrating brown eyes turned to me. "What'll be?" he shouted to be heard over to music.

"Rum and coke, please." My voice sounded muffled, but he must have heard me because he nodded and set to work. He's probably used to it. I turned around and looked out at the dance floor. It was packed with men in varying states of undress, gyrating and grinding up on each other. Most of them had leather on, but a few didn't, their eyes wide in amazement. In the far corner, an S & M show was being put on. One guy was chained to a dais, a black leather mask obscuring his face, while a bigger man stood above him, whipping him repeatedly. I couldn't help but wince. That's got to hurt!

Charlotte nudged my shoulder and I turned back. Our drinks were ready. Smiling graciously at the cute bartender, I grabbed my drink and started to sip, my eyes drawn back to the dais. The smaller guy writhed on the stage as the bigger guy dripped hot candle wax down his bare chest. I could see from my position that his erection was visible even at this distance.

I've done some kinky things in my life, but I've never understood how being whipped can turn people on. Or having hot wax poured on them. For me, the pain is too much. I draw the line at anal fisting.

"Enjoying yourself?" Charlotte asked, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

"It's not quite what I was expecting, but…"

"Give it time. Things are just starting."

"Great."

The show continued as both men removed their clothes and started groping right there on the stage. I'd never actually seen two gay men going at it. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I don't see why people get so bent out of shape about anal sex. It's perfectly natural. With a little lubrication, it's quite nice. What? Don't judge me.

They continued to frisk each other until the big one got down on his knees and, grabbing the other's erect penis, slipped it into his mouth. I couldn't help but feel a bit like a voyeur. It didn't help that Charlotte and I were the only two women in the club, either. "Let's dance," I suggested. Not waiting for a reply, I grabbed her hand and dragged her out into the middle of the floor. The crowd shifted a little to give us room. I started to sway to the music, feeling good. I'd forgotten how much fun going out was. A couple behind me started to cheer as I moved to the beat, letting it flow through me. Charlotte laughed, spinning me around and around.

We danced for a long time. The alcohol lowering my inhibitions. Charlotte and I kept giggle like school girls. As she spun me faster and faster, I started to feel hot, and the room began to spin a little. It wasn't just because I was dancing. It kept spinning even after I'd stopped. "Whoa," I said, just loud enough for Charlotte to hear.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I've just got to pop to the loo. I'll be right back." I scanned the room for back corridor and spotted one across the room. I pushed through the crowd of men, the overwhelming smell of sweat and cum nearly making me sick. Dodging elbows and cocks, I came out on the other side, rushing into the corridor.

The air back there was fresher and I breathed deeply, hand on my chest. What the fuck am I doing here? I stood there for a minute, willing myself to relax. I didn't know why I was feeling so sick all of a sudden. I hadn't felt ill earlier. Then it came to me. The Bacardi. I couldn't hold it down. I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up and rushed down the corridor, slamming through the door at the end and falling to my knees in a stall. I just made it before I puked. This is the last time I drink Bacardi. Closing my eyes, I waited for the nausea to pass. In a minute or so, it did.

Rising onto unsteady legs, I shuffled out of the stall, looking at myself in the mirror. My lip liner was gone, but thankfully I hadn't gotten any vomit in my hair. "Thank God for small favors," I mumbled.

The pounding music cut off. The show must be over. In the silence, I heard moaning coming from the stall next to me. Frowning, I stepped closer, not saying anything yet. Another moan. "Everything all right?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," a voice responded. Masculine.

The door to the stall opened and I gasped. There were three men all in a line, having a go at it. None of them had a stitch of clothing on, and a thin sheen of sweat coated them. My mouth dropped open in shock as I recognized one of them. "Anthony?" I gasped.

The man in question opened his eyes and grinned. "Hannah!" he sang as he continued to be fucked from behind. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with a friend," I replied, shuffling my foot awkwardly.

"Is he cute?"

"She, actually. We're having a girl's night out."

"Sounds fun." He moaned as the man behind him picked up his speed.

"Yeah, sorry to interrupt. I was just going,…"

"Give me a call some time, we'll hang out."

"Sure."

I turned and ran out of the room. Okay, that was seriously the strangest thing I've ever seen and I'm not talking about the gay sex. How can someone sit there and carry on a conversation like he's out for tea when he's being fucked? And I'd definitely seen more of Anthony that I wanted to.

I fought my way back through the crowd to Charlotte. "What took you so long?" she asked. " I was starting to think you'd fallen in."

"No, I got sick." I swallowed." Look, I'm going to head home. I'd had a bit too much to drink and the last thing I want to do is wind up passed out on the floor of a nightclub."

"Are you sure? We could go somewhere else…"

"No, it isn't that. I should've known better than to drink Bacardi. The last time I drank it, I was so sick I missed a whole week of school." Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "I was sixteen."

"Ah." She nodded in understanding. "I'm going to stay for a bit. Unless you need me to drive you home."

"No, you stay. Have fun. I'll get a cab."

"Get better. We'll do it again some time."

"I can't wait."

I made my way outside, hugging my arms to myself against the sudden chill. Okay, let's face it, I'm not twenty anymore. I can't drink hard liquor and go clubbing. I looked both ways for a cab, but surprisingly, there were none to be found. I debated going back into the club and asking Charlotte to drive me, but decided against it. She was having fun, so why ruin it for her?

I started to walk, the cool air easing my nausea a little. It was about a fifteen-minute drive to my place, so by foot…probably a half hour? I crossed the street and followed it down past some shops. I saw Ben's bar and felt a tug on my heart. I was slowly getting used to life without him, but I knew that I'd never stop missing him, never stop regretting what had happened between us.

As I walked past the bar, the door opened and Ben stepped out, his keys in hand. He looked my way and froze in his tracks. "Hannah?" he asked. It was the first time in a long time that he'd not used an angry tone when speaking it me. It felt kind of nice.

"Hi," I said, continuing on.

"What are you doing walking around this time of night?" he asked.

"I need to get home and there's no cabs."

He sighed. "Come on, I'll drive you."

I stopped. "You don't have to."

"Well, I'm not going to let you walk home, am I? Get in."

"Okay." I followed him to his car and slid into the passenger seat. I couldn't believe I was back in his car again after everything.

We rode in silence. Ben kept his eyes on the road, never once looking at me. I stared down at my hands, willing myself not to get sick in his car. That would just kill me. When we pulled up in front of my place, he turned to me. "Here we are," he said.

"Here we are," I repeated, catching his eye. "Ben, I…."

"Han." He held up a finger. "Just because I gave you a lift home doesn't mean we're friends. I was just being a gentlemen, okay?"

"Okay." I felt the hot sting of tears. "I just thought…"

"Sorry to disappoint. I can't believe you gave me that whole speech about breaking up with me because it was best for me when all you wanted to was to shove me off to the side so you could date that Inspector."

"What?"

"I saw you two together at Poppy's party. How could you do that, Han?"

"I'm not dating him!" I insisted. "I told him I just wanted to be friends. We're not even that anymore."

"Oh." He looked down at his hands.

"And what about you?" I challenged. "You told me that you didn't want to be with anyone else, and I then I saw you snogging Poppy."

"That was just to make you jealous," he confessed, laughing a little.

"Do you really hate me that much?"

Ben sighed. 'I don't hate you, Han. I just…you hurt me more that I've ever been hurt before."

"I was doing you a favor," I said, reaching over for his hand. Shockingly, he let me hold it.

"Were you?" He laughed bitterly.

"I understand if you can't forgive me, but I miss you, Ben. You've been the most important person in my life for the last ten years and…it's killing me." The tears threatened to come again.

"I miss you, too," he confessed, turning to face me. His eyes were misty as well.

"Can't we just be friends?" I choked out, the tears falling.

"Not right now. I need time."

"How much time?"

"I'll let you know."

"Can we meet for a coffee or something?"

"I'll call you."

Choking back more tears, I got out. "Thanks for the ride," I managed, willing my voice not to choke with emotion.

"Yeah." I shut the door and watched his car disappear down the road, turning off onto the next street.


Surprisingly, I woke up the next day feeling back to normal. I rolled over to look at the clock and smiled. I'd slept in until noon. No wonder I felt so good. I stretched and felt my bad crack, realigning itself. Memories from the previous night came flooding back. Ben had given me a ride home, and he'd promised to meet me for a coffee one day soon. We were on our way to repairing our friendship. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

I had two hours to get ready for my client. For eight hundred pounds, I had to be flawless. I went through my usual routine and left with time to spare. The cab brought me right over to Ross's hotel and as I made my way up in the lift, I couldn't help tapping my toes. Everything felt right again.

I got out of the lift and expertly made my way down the corridor, stopping outside of his door. The smile on my face was genuine as I knocked. The door opened and my grin broadened.


Belle

The man on the other side of the door was gorgeous. He had short brown hair, penetrating brown eyes, and a smile that melted my heart. It was lust at first sight. "Belle?" he asked, his Scottish brogue practically making my knees quake.

"Yes. Ross?" I managed to say.

"Yes. Come on in." He held the door open wider and I passed by, breathing in his scent. Calvin Klein. My favorite. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thanks. I don't drink while I'm working." I smiled at him again.

"Oh, the money, right." He felt in his pockets and produced an envelope. "Here you go."

"Thanks." I stuffed the envelope in my bag. "So, what would you like?" I asked, scooting closer to him.

"Stephanie promised me that you were up for anything," he said, blushing a little.

"I am. What is it?"

"I want you to dress up like a priest…"

"Okay."

"And I'll dress up like a choir boy."

"Cute."

"And I want you to touch me…inappropriately."

"Oh." I paused for a second. That was pretty out there even in my line of work. And if I went through with it, I'd most definitely burn in Hell. But, as I've always maintained, the money's well worth it. And it is kind of funny, right?

Ross laughed, scratching his ear. "Is…is that all right?"

"It's great." I grinned. "Do you have a costume for me to wear?"

"Yeah, it's hanging in the bathroom."

"I'll be right out."

I went into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Laid out on the counter was everything I'd need. The priest robes, a hairnet, and a silver close-cropped wig. God, I love my job. Giggling, I slipped into my costume, elation setting in. It's clients like Ross that I love the most. Ones with a great sense of imagination and fun. What more could I ask for?"

When I came out the bathroom, looking every part a Catholic priest, I saw that Ross had blocked out all the light in the hotel room. But I could see the flickering glow of candles from the bedroom. I followed that light, barely containing my excited laughter.

Ross was kneeling before an altar, a white choirboy's robe replacing his t-shirt and slacks. At the sound of my footfalls on the carpeted floor, he asked in a falsetto. "Father?"

"Yes, my son, it is I," I replied, making my voice deeper.

"Have you come to…give me my private lessons again?"

"I have." I stood behind him and started to rub his shoulders, my rings glittering in the candlelight. I reached down and started to undo his robe. Ross didn't fight. "Stand up," I commanded. He obliged and the robe fell away, revealing his naked body. I couldn't help but grin at his impressive girth.

Ross cleared his throat. "Is everything okay, Father?" he asked.

"Everything's great, my son. You have a great body. God must truly love you."

"Thank you, Father."

I started to run my hand down this chest, watching as his cock stiffened. I gripped it in my hand, gently massaging the head. Ross groaned quietly. "Please don't, Father." he begged, almost convincingly.

"Come now, you want to show your love for me, don't you? For God?"

"Yes."

"Then let me do this."

I continued to move my hand, slowly increasing my speed. Ross's breath started to quicken and I knew that he was close. After a few more seconds, he was done. "Thank you, Father," he whispered, grinning.

"I'm not done."

I knelt down before him and slipped him into my mouth. The metallic taste of cum sparked my taste buds. I moved my lips up and done furiously, my tongue gently massaging the bottom of his head. I could hear him moaning loudly. With a rumbling groan, he shot his load, his hands lost in my wig. After a second, I pulled back, smiling. "Now what do you say?" I teased.

"Thank you, Father."

Before I could say anything else, he blew out the candles and shoved me back onto the bed. He jumped on next to me and started tearing at my robes, his still erect penis getting even harder. I tore the wig off, shaking my long hair out. He ripped the robe clean off and started yanking down my knickers. I unhooked my bra and stared up at him in anticipation. I hadn't been looking forward to sex with a client in a long time.

Throwing my knickers over his shoulder, he rolled on a condom and dove right in, making me gasp unexpectedly. I threw my head back and felt him bury his face in my neck. His movements were slow, gentle. The promise of something greater was tantalizing.

I clung to his back, kissing his shoulder as he moved his hips, each motion causing spikes of pleasure to scream through my nerve endings. This guy is good enough to be a professional! I wrapped my legs around his torso, wanting him in me even deeper. Ross laughed, seeing me practically over the edge. We'd only been at it for a few minutes.

Just as I was about to cum, he stopped his movement and pulled out. My eyes shot open and I stared up at him questioningly. Without a word, he spun me around and entered me from behind. I cried out in both pain and ecstasy, gripping the pillow tightly. I've done anal plenty of times, but never with anyone so well endowed. I liked it.

Ross pumped away, his hand on my back to steady himself. I looked back at him over my shoulder. His eyes were closed peacefully and he was grinning broadly. Apparently he was having just as much fun as I was. He popped his eye open and winked, leaning forward and kissing the nape of neck. Goosebumps shot up all over my skin.

He moved his hips faster, so fast that the bed was slamming up against the wall. I cried out, clutching a tuft of his hair in my hand as the pleasure maximized and reached its crescendo. We both gasped as we climaxed, falling back onto the bed, drenched with sweat and bodily fluids.

We lay there for a few minutes, catching our breath. He nuzzled my arm with his nose, laughing. "That was amazing!" he enthused, his eyes alight like those of a young boy in a candy shop.

"Well, I don't like to toot my horn, but…yeah, it was." I giggled, propping my head in my hand, staring into his eyes. If I wasn't careful, I could easily fall in love with him.

"Stephanie was not kidding when she told me that you were the best in all of London."

"Thank you." I swelled with pride.

"You know, I come to London all the time," he broached.

"You do?"

"Every couple of months for business."

"And?"

"And I'd like to see you again, Belle."

"I'd be happy to have you come again."

We laughed at the double entendre. "I'll be back in July. Can you guarantee me a booking, then?"

"Of course." I reached down to my bag and pulled out my diary. "What week?"

"The week of the twenty-first, I believe."

"All right." I made a note in the margin. "Just give me a call when you know."

"I will."

He held me for a while and I remembered how much I love a good cuddle. The only client I had who'd cuddle with me was Ashok. I'll have to remember to give him a call and see when 's coming back from his holiday. Business hasn't been the same without him.

I was drifting off to sleep when Ross got out of bed. "I've got to go," he said, frowning apologetically. "I'd love to stay and have another go at you, but I've got to get home to Edinburgh."

"Okay." I pulled the blanket up around my shoulders. "I'd better get going, too. I've got to go home and have a rest."

"Keep your strength up," he said, smiling warmly. "This was just the warm up. Next time, I'm going to make you scream."

"I can't wait." He put an affectionate hand on my cheek and I kissed it. "I had a lot of fun," I confessed.

"So did I. It's rare to find a woman who's willing to act out my bizarre fantasies."

"That's what I do." I shrugged.

"Don't ever change, Belle." He kissed the top of my head.

I got out of bed and threw my clothes on. Fully dressed, I paused in the doorway. "Take care," I said, stalling.

"You, too." He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. I felt electricity spark through my body.

"I'll call you in a month or so to book you again," he assured me.

"Promise?"

"Promise."


Hannah

We said our good-byes and I left him to get ready for his flight home. When I got outside the hotel, a cab was waiting for me at the curb. I climbed in. The driver knew to take me home. I watched out the window as the hotel faded into the skyline. Ross and I had shared something special. I know that he and I can never have a relationship or anything, but it was nice to connect with a client. Plus, I'd hooked myself another regular. Not bad for day's work.

I closed my eyes and rested my head up against the back of the seat. My thoughts drifted back to what I'd just done and how sacrilegious it was. Now, I've never been a good Catholic girl, but suddenly I felt guilty, in a way I never had before. I'd just added another eternity of torment to my already lengthy sentence. I'd been so in the moment before that I hadn't thought much about it, but now… I started to feel dizzy again.

Looking out the window, I saw a church. I'd remembered there being one not too far. "Pull over, mate," I urged. The driver pulled over and as soon as the car had stopped moving, I was out and rushing up the stone steps. I haven't stepped foot in a church since my nephew's Baptism, and that was a laugh and a half. But this…It was dark and stodgy, the atmosphere stifling. I willed myself to keep walking.

I found the confessional, but heard the priest talking quietly with someone inside. I sat down in the first pew, folding my hands neatly in my lap. I couldn't help but feel out of sorts in this Holy place, like the new member of an old clique. Like I didn't belong. I kept waiting to burst out in flames.

The door to the confessional opened and an older guy walked out. Avoiding me all together, he rushed out. I swallowed nervously and entered the confessional. I sat down on the bench and cleared my throat. "Hello, child," the pries said, his rumbling voice reverberating in the small space.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," I replied dutifully.

"What's the matter, child?"

I was quiet for a minute, mustering up the courage to tell him the truth. Sighing, I blurted it out. "I'm a prostitute. I've been one for about five years now and to be honest, I love it. I don't know if I'll ever give it up. Usually that doesn't bother me, but today, I was with a client and he wanted act out a fantasy."

"And what was it?"

"He wanted to dress up like a choirboy while I dressed up as a priest and….molested him." I waited for the priest to storm out of the confessional or berate me, but he didn't. He was silent. "Father?" I pressed.

"I am here."

"And I just feel so bad…like I've done something that's so terrible and I'll never be able to come back from it. Like I've damned myself."

"God forgives, child," the priest said softly. "If you truly regret your actions and wish to seek repentance for them."

"I do," I assured him. "I do regret my actions."

"Then the Lord will forgive you."

"Thank you, Father." I stood to go, feeling a little better.

"You're welcome, child. And remember, God loves you."

Outside the confessional, I was a young woman, sobbing. A feeling of sympathy washed over me and I sat down next to her. "You okay?" I asked gently.

"No. I'm scared." Her words were weighted with emotion.

"Don't be. It'll be all right, I promise." I stroked her shoulder comfortingly.

"But how can I be forgiven after what I did? I…" She broke off, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"You what?"

"I cheated on my husband. I don't even know why I did it, but now the guilt is tearing me apart. I don't deserve to be forgiven."

"You do," I insisted, squeezing her hand. "You regret what you did, you're on the right path. But me…" I shook my head. "I doubt there's much hope for me."

"What did you do?" the woman asked.

"I had sex for money."

"Oh." She grew quiet.

"And worse than that. I dressed up like a priest and sexually assaulted a grown man in a choirboy costume. How fucked up is that?"

"I can't judge you," she said, smiling faintly.

I smiled. "If I can be forgiven for that, you have nothing to worry about. Good luck." Maybe what they say is true and we're all sinners, doomed to struggle through life with out own demons, unworthy of God's love. But somehow, we get through it.

With that said, I turned and left the church, hoping that by some miracle, I'd be leaving a little of my sin behind. The cab was still waiting for me and I climbed in.

As Fate would have it, my mobile buzzed. Sighing, I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello? Belle?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"I saw your website, and I'd like to book you. Tonight."

"Okay. What time?"

"Eight?"

"Sounds perfect. Have you got a hotel room or shall we meet at mine?"

"Yours, preferably."

"All right, mine it is. Can I ask, what's your name?"

"Vincent."

"All right, Vincent, I'll see you tonight."

"Lovely. Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up, grinning. How could today get any better? I had just enough time to do a bit of shopping before I had to get home and freshen up for my next client. "Sorry, mate, but there's been a change of plans. Can you take me to the Plaza Shopping Centre?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Right now, for me, life is perfect. Ben and I are on the mend; I have a fabulous house, great friends, and wonderful clients. Not to mention eight hundred pounds cash burning a whole in my pocket and absolution from a priest. What more can a girl ask for?


Next Time: During a weekend get-away wtih a rich client in Crete, Hannah runs into her parents. Will she be able to keep them in the dark about her double-life as Belle?

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my good friend Anthony Scalici.