Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! I only accept constructive criticism.

10-10-2-Do-Me

Chapter 4

Now Roaming

Kaiba felt his rage no longer necessary when the ding of the elevator alerted him his little 'B&E' bestie was gone. He even checked through the peephole before opening the door, scanning the long hallway to make sure the man was gone. He eyed the space's corners and knew just the security cameras he'd be installing soon. If Bakura wanted to keep breaking in, he was going to find out how and make sure it stopped. It also wouldn't hurt to have when Yami came to visit (making sure to bring kids with him that were too short for the peephole) so he could turn the man away without opening the door to do it.

The brunet closed the door with a firm thud and locked it. He made his way back over to the bar and finished the last bit of liquor in his tumbler. He even dumped Bakura's leftovers into the glass, chugging the burning liquid down. He carried the used glasses into the kitchen and opened the dishwasher. He used this opportunity to load any additional items in his sink which were minimal since he lived alone and rarely cooked.

It wasn't until Kaiba set a plate in the lower rack, rolled it back inside the machine, and went to stand up that he stumbled back into the counter. His head spun with speeds matching the Earth's orbit and he felt him body veer to the right; his arm moving in slow motion in a vain attempt to catch the lean against the counter. "Shiiit," he slurred as he steadied against the counter if just to get the appliance's door closed.

The alcohol chose now to attack his empty stomach—shit, he hadn't had any dinner. It didn't help that he drank with Bakura—the guy was a seasoned alcoholic after all. And the drinks Bakura mixed were beyond the category of stiff—stiff was Mokuba every time music and a dance floor presented itself. Those drinks were more along the lines of Superman's bones. Now Kaiba felt like he was trying to fly around the world fast enough to turn back time as he wobbled over to his cell-phone to order some takeout he was suddenly craving something bad.

An hour later Kaiba was sprawled out on his couch scrupulously ameliorated. His tie limp around his neck; his dress shirt unbuttoned and his shoes and socks missing. His eyes had a clear sheen and his coffee table was littered with the boxes of the most delicious oil filled Chinese takeout he'd had in a while. He gazed listlessly at a dueling competition where an older gentleman and teen were heatedly throwing down trap and magic cards. He chuckled darkly when the older man's monster exploded in a show of holographic perfection.

Within five minutes he easily read where the duel was headed and flipped through the channels. Nothing worth watching was on (especially since he had Netflix) but the murmur of the television was nice to his fuzzy brain. Kaiba settled on an American news channel where two men in suits were arguing back and forth about stock exchange and taxes. He rubbed his face, lazily taking in the put on debate. Suddenly his phone buzzed loudly against a takeout box. He grabbed it and flipped it right side up just as more texts flooded the device. They were all from Bakura.

Bakura sent him five photos of him motor-boating busty babes and being sandwiched between leggy ladies: 'Wishing you were me, mmm?' Another photoset came in showing him next to a bottle of one of Kaiba's favorite vodkas: 'Wishing you were arseholed off this shit, eh?' The next sets showed the club's sleek design, heavy crowd and a DJ playing what he assumed was decent music: 'Wishing you were here, huh bitch?'

Kaiba hated Bakura, yes, but now he had to come to terms that maybe he also hated a small part of himself. Why? Because a teeny-tiny-minuscule piece of himself did want to be there arseholed off vodka and squished between plush women. He was technically his own boss after all; he could have gone out with the man and just played hooky the next day. Thinking about it now, he had a feeling Yami would have approved his absence. Maybe he would have even left him alone for twenty-four hours. But he never needed Yami's approval or Bakura's company to meet women. Or even Joey's charity blind dates. He was Seto Kaiba, a successful good looking man that was perfectly capable of dooming himself into a life time of loneliness on his own. The evidence of Chinese takeout cluttering his coffee table and the 'O'Reily Factor' hissing on the TV was proof enough.

He growled as his phone buzzed again. He flipped it over to find a video this time. Pressing play, he gawked at the overabundance of hot women and suited men loudly singing 'Happy Birthday' to the alleged birthday boy Bakura in broken English. The camera panned down to even show a cake with damn candles—twenty five candles at that. Kaiba quickly left the video and deleted the text message conversation from his phone. In contemplating whether to throw his phone across the room, his fingers tapped his call log and he was now staring down a familiar number. He licked his suddenly dry feeling lips and wondered about his next move.

'Am I drunk enough for this?' This was Kaiba's only concern at the moment, though he knew this wasn't the real question. 'Am I lonely enough for this?' Slowly he leaned forward and attempted to grab the remote off the coffee table. When he face planted into the couch cushions and accidentally 'recalled' back to the duel, finding it once more interesting, he knew both questions were answered with a firm yes. Quickly he tapped the number in his call log.

"You've reached 10-10-2-Do Me. Enter or speak the credit card number you'd like to use and then press...pound, baby." He grunted out a number and had to repeat it since he seemed to have slurred too much the first time around. Luckily it went through the fourth time when he just sucked it up and used the keypad.

"Hi sexy, my name's Candy and I'm just as sweet." Did Candy always answer the phone? Or was he just calling on her shift? Or did every women call herself Candy? Did they not have males who answered? What would his name be? Jolly Rancher? Hershey? "You there baby?"

Oh shit he was zoning out. "Um…yeah….hey." He cleared the leftover grease from his throat and managed to somehow mute the TV.

"Don't be shy honey—"

"I'm drunk, not shy and I want to speak to a woman." He was sure Candy was looking for another job now but when he'd been aggressively drinking, he tended to be pushier than needed. The first call showed a sliver of that.

"Preferences?"

Oh yeah, he had to choose a kink. "Um, I want to—um…interracial?" Wait, how would Candy know his race and know what race he wanted?

"What race sweetie?"

He sighed with relief at the question until he realized he couldn't answer it. "Uhh…" Wait, what race was the girl he spoke with? African? Latino? Hispanic? South Asian? Polynesian? The list went on and on! There were so many women out there that were caramel colored he had no idea what to ask for. He didn't care about her race but he did want to find her. "Surprise me." Surely Dahlia wasn't a rare find. It shouldn't be that hard to get connected to her line.

"Hold on while I connect you babe." The cheesy hold music was back in full swing.

Kaiba shifted himself around so he was comfortably lying on the couch and jammed a hand down his pants. After a few painful tugs, he removed his hand and fumbled around in his suit coat. He successfully located his hand lotion just as a voice came into his ear.

"Hello…"

"…Who is this?" Kaiba was close to making a mess when trying to unscrew the lid to the lotion while having the 'easy-squeeze' top popped open. But this didn't make sense to him at this drunken moment in time.

"This is Salinas, papi." Kaiba froze in fumbling with the lotion and made an utterly aghast face. This was not his caramel dipped voice-mate. Rather than respond, he hung up the phone and immediately called back, punching in his credit card number.

"Hi sexy, my name's Candy and I'm just as sweet."

"Candy, I didn't want Salinas."

"You called before, baby?" A hint of recognition in her tone.

"Yes, I requested interracial and you connected me to Salinas."

"I'm sorry honey, let me get you something more to your liking?"

The unspoken question hung in the air and Kaiba forced his brain to move a little bit faster to pick a damn race. "Indian?"

"One moment hot stuff." Kaiba went back to busying himself with the lotion that just did not want to open to save his life.

"Hello…"

Kaiba heard the familiar roll of an 'R' and his ears perked up. "Who is this?"

"This is Lavanya. What may I—" Yet again he hung up and called right back.

"Hi sexy, my name's Candy and I'm just as sweet." Wow, did she really have to say that every time? Was she the only one working incoming calls? Oh shit, he was doing it again. Like a cheap camera he needed to focus.

"Candy, it's me—wrong girl, again."

"…Excuse me?" Candy's character slipped for a moment and she sounded utterly annoyed. Quickly she cleared he throat. "I'm…so sorry sweetie."

"I want to talk to someone in particular."

"Her name?"

For the life of him, Kaiba could not remember the name of the woman he spoke to the last time but why was he reminded of murder? "I don't…remember?"

Candy actually let out an annoyed sigh at this, "What about her name do you remember?"

He didn't care for Candy's sass but he had to find this woman and she was his only help. "Her name…it's like…murder…" That was probably one of the dumbest things he ever said.

"Dahlia?"

"Dahlia?" Kaiba said it like a foreign word he'd heard before. Like Spanish vocabulary to an American student.

"Yes, Dahlia, as in the 'Black Dahlia Murder'…AKA Elizabeth Short; the Californian brutally murdered in 1947."

Who knew Candy was so well read on American murder mysteries? "I believe so—"

"Let me connect you sexy," Candy quickly cut in, allowing the hold music to fill up the phone space. Obviously she wasn't in the mood to deal with him anymore. For good measure, Kaiba saved the sex phone line number as 'Dahlia,' while he waited for the woman to pick up. He had a good feeling about this.

"Hello…"

"Who is this?" He was once more distracted by his damn impossible hand lotion. Who made bottles like this?

The voice sounded confused and rightly so, "This is Dahlia; who am I speaking with?"

As soon as that lightly accented English permeated through the fog the alcohol created, he felt his body take on a slightly higher temperature. "Dahlia, hello."

"Hi." She sounded so hospitable.

"This is the Chairman." A sleazy smirk crossed his lips as he listened to her almost shy chuckle. His smile grew in perversion while he squirted too much lotion into his hand. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well…" Something was left lingering.

"Well…?"

"Simply missing you…this business trip has been too long without you near…"

Oh, she was jumping right into it? "Where are you?"

"Overseas—London."

"Mmm…are you back at your hotel room?"

"Mmmhm…"

"What do you miss about me?"

"The way your hands feel on my body."

"Mmm," his hand sneaked back down his slacks, "your caramel sweet body right?"

"That's right Chairman," was the almost breathy response. "I miss you touching me…"

"How do you want me to touch you?" He lazily stroked himself, his eyes going half-lid. His apartment was becoming a haze as he drifted into a reality of sex. "Want me to be rough or gentle?"

"The Chairman decides."

"You decide." Pause—a long pregnant pause. Kaiba even checked his phone to make sure the line hadn't disconnected. Just as he was about to ask if Dahlia was still there, a breath of withheld need washed over his ear and straight to his crotch. He bit his lip as he groaned lowly in the line, "Do you like that? The idea of me touching you how you want?"

"…Mm…yeah…"

"Fuck you want it so bad, don't you?"

"I-I," her breath caught in her throat, "I want it."

"Want me to show up," his hand jerked his foreskin just right causing his tongue to lather around his lips, "rip your stockings off, and push you face down into the bed?"

"Oh Allah yes…" Kaiba paused only for a moment at the mention of the God. "I want you to take my panties off but leave my skirt on…"

"Shit, I damn well will." His hand worked harder across his length—his thumb nail grazing his slit. He bit back a groan, letting loose a pant that matched Dahlia's quickening breath. "Pull your skirt up, smack that ass—"

"Ah, yeah, spank me," she moaned, "want you to mark me Chairman."

"I'll leave handprints all over that ass." Kaiba cocked his wrist and a rumbling groan left his lips at the new sensation. "Then I'll lead forward…lick from the top to the bottom." He was shocked at the broken off whine that vibrated against his ear and shot straight down below. He worked his hand harder, "Feel you on my tongue."

"Oh my Allah," Dahlia's breath was coming in quicker succession as (what it sounded like) she tried to steady herself. "I want you here, I want you in-between my thighs."

"I'd fuck you so deep," his hand moved faster, "lick your nipples and play with your clit."

"Oh! You're going to make me come Chairman!"

Kaiba squeezed his appendage until the pain added to the arousal, "You want to come so bad, don't you?"

"Mmhm, yes."

"Fuck, you're so fucking sexy Dahlia. Tell me," he croaked, clenching that hard piece of flesh to painfully pleasurable levels, "tell me how to make you come."

Kaiba wasn't too sure if his words came out hotter than he knew, or even if he said something remarkable, but what he did know was that Dahlia was moaning. Not her usual breathy whimpers or withheld groans, she was full blown moaning in his ear. The passion so unbridled, so needy, so raw—before his mind could even finish processing the sound, he let out a gargled shout as he felt warmth spill over his fingers and hand. He shoved a second hand down to fondle his sensitive sack as he gently jacked himself soft. "…Fuuuuuck."

"Good?" Dahlia still sounded a little winded but was finding her breath again. This reign in on her control disappointed him.

"Oh yeah… Really good."

Once more her tinkling laugh crunched through the speaker, "I'm glad."

He was faced with another pregnant pause just like the first time Kaiba called and found his completion. However this time he didn't want Dahlia to wrap things up. He had…a question. "Did…did I turn you on?"

She didn't immediately answer. Instead he could hear her smile through the phone. "Does it matter Chairman?"

A question he'd been asking himself all night. He snorted as he lazily grabbed a napkin to clean himself up. "I guess not—you should get into things more…" He shimmied out of his pants to access the mess, "It made things better for me."

"Pleasing you is all that matters, right Chairman?"

"That's right." His smug reply she found amusing because he was once more listening to that clean airy laugh.

"I hope you can now rest well Chairman."

"I'm sure I will." Even now Kaiba could feel the pull of sleep tugging at his eyelids. He let out a great yawn, slipping a hand back down his briefs to be reminded of the left over semen now sticky against the fabric.

"Sleep well Chairman." Dahlia ended the call.

Kaiba lie there taking in the afterglow of the call before sluggishly getting on his feet. He turned off the TV and gathered up his trash. He waddled into kitchen to throw the items away and grabbed a bottle of water as an afterthought. He went upstairs to his room with the intention of getting out of his sweaty, stained clothes but the moment he sat down on his bed, he passed out. This time the caramel dipped woman with full lips had a remarkable ass and moaned only for him.

Las Vegas, Nevada

"Well, well, weeelll…"

Ignore it. All she had to do was ignore it.

"Oh, so you're just going to act like that wasn't hot?"

Isis Ishtar felt her face blaze bright red as she took off her headset for the day. She focused on her computer screen as she filled out her timecard. She really hoped her nosy neighbor was still on the phone, but knowing his track record, he was probably filling out his timecard as well. Peeking slightly to the right, Isis nearly fell out of her seat when a pair of knowing black lined jade colored eyes had an ink black brow cocked at her.

"Oh, I thought you were on a call," she shyly began packing up her items as her computer started shutting down. She made sure to keep her eyes on loading her water bottle and other items into her bag since that was a very bothersome job.

"Were you actually on a call? If so, that's probably the sexiest I've heard you since you started." His other brow raised to join its brother in agreement.

Isis chuckled nervously as the strap to her bag missed her shoulder the first tug. "I, well, you know," she shrugged as she tried to simultaneously put the strap over shoulder, causing it to fall by her hip yet again. "My callers…enjoy themselves."

"So you say." The eyes disappeared and she heard the commotion of the guy packing up his own items; the ding of his computer signaling a maintenance shut down. "I was sure only prudes and religious workers called you—how else could a virtually silent sex worker get a steady clientele?"

"Well—!" Isis spluttered as she nervously twirled her long braid around her arm. "I-I get other people as well Duke."

Said co-worker, Duke Devlin, reappeared in his full leather and tattoo glory, "I see that now. This 'Chairman' guy sounds like a kinky bastard. Does he actually get you hot?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Isis asked as she brushed past him, heading to the breakroom to retrieve her lunch bag. Of course he followed after her.

"Oh, I don't know," Duke noncommittally began, putting a few coins in the nearby vending machine. "Because that seems to be the only way you can get into stuff like this." He made his selection; the whir of the machinery dropping the fizzing drink below. "Would you not agree?"

Isis turned to his stooped down form, reaching for his drink and suddenly had the desire to knock him over. She instead gave one of her famous glares that came off more motherly than vicious, "I do not."

"Hm," Duke's grin was temporarily hidden behind a can of Rockstar. "So you say…"

"Mr. Devlin, how about you focus on your regulars and leave me and my doings be?" Isis' brow cocked up in mock annoyance as she headed for the elevators, Duke still on her heels.

"Sadly my regulars are overly pleased with my work—I mean, how could they not be?" He posed against the wall: hip cocked out in too tight leather pants as his right arm coolly supported him against the wall. "So I tend to get a little bored and listen around. I never hear you, so I have to ask what's going on the one time I do."

She huffed, leaving it at that — mostly out of embarrassment — as the doors dinged open showing many other workers heading home for the night. Most hid their faces while others were busy on their phones. Isis boarded with Duke and stared at the digital numbers blipping down to that coveted 'P1' floor.

"Got any plans for your days off?" Duke suddenly inquired as he took another swig from his can.

Isis sighed as she looked down at her feet. She twiddled her exposed toes thinking of how bad she needed to repaint them. "My brother will most likely plan something for me."

"Most likely," Duke agreed as he chuckled, glancing up at the elevator doors.

They finally dinged open and everyone let out a collective hiss at the bright sunlight burning in through the open doorway. The sex-hotline was naturally a 24hour operation, needing the most staffing during the nocturnal hours. Isis happened to be a part of that nocturnal staff and no matter how many times she knew that bright desert sun was going to be there when she left, she was still never ready for it, as well as everyone else.

The riders piled off, some sprinting to their cars. Duke rolled his eyes, "You'd think some of the people work here against their will. If you're that embarrassed about it, quit. Sheesh."

Isis nodded in agreement as she made a stop at her purple and white topped Mini Cooper. "Thank you for walking me to my car."

"No problem. I promised your brother that if you started working here, I'd make sure the only perverts talking to you would be the callers and well, of course me." He wiggled his eyebrows lewdly resulting in Isis giving his bicep a firm slap. "Enjoy your time off Isis."

"Same to you Duke." Isis watched the guy walk over to his sport-bike before she climbed inside her car. She set her items on the passenger-side seat and watched the other cars exiting the parking garage.

Isis watched as Duke whizzed through the door before following. She came to the stop light right before the highway and watched the traffic already picking up. When Isis made the very last minute decision to move to Las Vegas, she truly didn't comprehend how awful the traffic was. Her younger brother, Malik Ishtar, often complained about how long it took him to get anywhere. She assumed it was because he'd gotten enough speeding tickets to where he now had to follow traffic laws. This of course was not the case when he'd picked her up from the airport almost two years ago; she'd gripped her seatbelt with all she had, sure this would be her last ride ever.

But she understood his aggressive driving now. As a Tesla cut her off before slamming on their breaks, Isis slammed on her horn before whipping her small car into a small slot around them. The Tesla driver flipped her off before running a red light. This was not an isolated event in Vegas. With 'Sin City' being a hub for international persons as well as tourists and those maybe occupied by a controlled substance, accidents and traffic went hand-in-hand. When Isis bought her treasured Mini Cooper, her brother worried about her being crushed by other drivers. But Isis felt safe in something she could zip around in and fit into tight spaces. It was a representation of the person she was becoming—who she always had been.

Ten minutes into her commute home, Isis reached for her sunglasses as she drove into the Nevada sun. Despite the surrounding civilization of great buildings built with the intentions of attracting unique attention, and the ever colorful Las Vegas patrons, Nevada itself was a beautiful place that wasn't lost in the phantasm lakes of hot winding asphalt of yellow and white lines. Smoothly carved coffee colored mountains sat strong under the clear blue sky with the never waning sun bathing all in its light and heat. The sandy white and golden brown patches of ground littered with rough true-green shrubs; trees stunted in their grown due to the lack of water and cacti appearing plump and prickly.

Isis clicked on the radio and hummed along to some 'Top 40' song about love, before her mind started wandering back to work. Their shifts changed every pay period; this particular two week period she had Sunday, Monday and Tuesday off. The call center was very flexible in its shifts considering the nature of the work. 'Illusion Entertainment' was one of the larger entertainment companies based in Vegas. They owned many sex affiliated businesses and were one of the premiere companies to get on with. They offered medical insurance, paid sick leave, vacation days, personal time, 401K, etc. Isis had chosen the place during a low time in her life, not even realizing it was a smart temporary career move. In just a year she'd received a raise as well as a bonus for her clientele numbers growing. Despite her lack of reoccurring callers, she was excellent in managing call volume like many other extras in the office.

She can remember going through training feeling like she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. But Isis didn't have much backing her to get a good paying job and good paying was not an option living in the well-known city. College hadn't been an option for her situation and though she had jobs, they were mainly part-time before she became a stay-at-home-slave as she viewed it. But all of that was behind her now. A year and a half later and she was making great money, doing a job that expanded herself as a person and a woman. She'd never been able to express her sexuality so fluidly but Las Vegas was well equipped for such discoveries. She knew she didn't want to stay forever, but for now, it was where she needed to be.

The city of Paradise was just twenty to thirty minutes outside of Las Vegas — forty five minutes considering the traffic — and it's served as the location of where she lived. The community was right off a main road flanked by 7/11s, gas stations, fast-food locations and a few sit-down eateries; as well as tanning salons, spas, and 'Happy Ending' parlors that weren't shy about anything. The cookie cutter neighborhood of modern Tuscan style condos and homes by the name of 'The Sands of Paradise' is where Isis laid her head thanks to Malik.

The neighborhood entrance was flanked on either side by shallow beds housing smooth cream colored stones walled in by bright red stones, stacked atop one another in true Sante Fe landscaping. Thick golden trunks of jagged triangles shot high from these pits; capped with thick leaves of green. The palm trees were surrounded by dwarfed shrubs of small purple flowers, and median sized bushes that grew long stems of green littered with red petals. She rolled through the suntanned colored homes accented with rich chocolate colored rooves, garage doors, entry ways, as well as lining the windows and walkways.

An almost identical modern Tuscan style home to the rest had its garage door open. On one side was a freshly waxed 1969 Chevy Camaro SS in a sleek matte black; the other housed the owner of the home, who was sitting on a rolling shop stool working on a taken apart Harley Davidson 48 with ape hangers and a custom paint job. West Coast rap blasted from the mounted speakers surrounded by sketches of different designs and posters of attractive models next to fast cars. A tool caddy was parked next to the wanna-be-mechanic who looked very disgruntled with his two wheel toy.

Isis pulled her Mini Cooper into the driveway and got out just to hear 'FUCK THE POLICE' booming from the garage. "Malik!"

The blond glanced over to his sister before pushing his feet against the cement, rolling clear across the garage on his stool, to where a remote sat forgotten in a lawn chair. He turned down the music and extended his arms, "My prodigal sister returns." He blindly reached for a conveniently placed oil stained towel, haphazardly wiping his hands.

"When are you going to stop calling me that?" Isis grabbed her items from the passenger seat before bumping the door closed with her hip, chirping the car locked.

He threw the towel randomly over his shoulder, "When I stop feeling like I killed the fatted calf." A kohl rimmed lilac eye winked as he wheeled himself back over to his precious diva named after an ex-girlfriend.

"What are you doing?" Isis crossed her arms as she poked the front tire with the bottom of her sandal.

Malik let out a long huff that blew a stray golden dread from the almost neat bun he had on his head. "Vivian is being problematic, you know, the usual." He motioned to the central part of the machine, "My engine's running fat."

"…Pardon?"

"The engine is running rich—too much fuel compared to air. It's making thicker exhaust, fouling my spark plugs and making the engine run thicker than peanut-butter."

Isis blinked once, then again, "Sounds…great?"

Malik popped a brow high, "But it's…really not."

"Oh?"

Malik let out a long laugh that his sister joined in. He reached out taking her nearest hand in his dirty palm, "How was work?"

Despite the filth, Isis rubbed her thumb back and forth across his knuckles. "The same old?" She affectionately took her other hand and patted the top of his before allowing her lips to fall by her side. "What should I make for dinner?"

Malik's lips titled down in the perfect arch as he nodded, "Hm…that's not what Duke said."

Of course Duke would be quick to text her brother about what happened. Her face flamed hotter than she assumed Vivian's engine. "I said what do you want for dinner?" Isis rushed past Malik as he jumped up, following his bashful older sister.

"Oh no you don't!"

"Leave me alone Malik!" Was the very immature response as Isis ran into the house.

"No!" He swiped for the back of her shirt and missed, huffing out a laugh, "Who is this pervert? The 'Carebear?' Sounds like pedophile to me!"

"It's the 'Chairman' and he's just a regular!" Isis found herself in the kitchen on one side of the island while Malik on the other. "Actually, he's my only regular." Jerked right and Malik jerked left; this continued on until Isis successfully faked him out, taking off into the living room where his foot caught some motorcycle boots she told Malik to put away. She toppled down onto the couch and before she could get up, Malik was tackling her. Isis let out a squeaking laugh as he left sloppy raspberries all over her neck. "Malik unhand me!"

"I will only after you promise me he's not asking you to talk about peeing on him and sucking your thumb!" He grunted when she slapped him on the arm around her waist resulting in him biting her shoulder.

"Um, OW, Ma-lik!" She scolded as she elbowed him in his ribs.

"Promise woman!" She wheezed out a laugh as he squeezed her in a tight hug, unaffected by her blow.

"I promise, I promise! Now let me go!"

"Good." He shoved her out of his embrace landing her on the hard tiled floor much to his amusement. He stretched out like a queen surveying at a party, even having the nerve to inspect his nails as she glared from the ground. "You know I have to watch out for you. I've sucked ass at it in the beginning but I'm making up for lost time."

"Time is never lost." Isis affectionately patted his face before landing a slap to his. Malik squawked indignantly as making she made her way into the kitchen. "Now what do you want?"

"For you to be happy."

"Malik." Isis went to getting ingredients out of the fridge and pantry.

"I'm serious Isis. How long do you plan to work at the sexy line?" Her brother was probably the most open-minded person Isis knew, but he knew she was worth more than getting people off on the phone. It warmed her heart to have someone in her corner.

She shrugged as she set the oven to preheat, "I guess until I finish my degree." Isis was currently doing hybrid classes where everything but the final was online. "Then I can finally get a job I can tell people about."

"Psh, who cares what they think? You make good money with great perks. I just want you to be doing something you love." Malik leaned against the counter watching as she cleaned produce in the sink. "I know telling perverts how hot they make you isn't how you pictured things at 29."

She gave a dry laugh, "Definitely not. Now how about you go finish with Vivian and making the neighbors uncomfortable?"

"Call me when it's ready," he called over his shoulder before the door to the garage slammed, followed by the more heavy bass lines and proclamations of 'FUCK THE POLICE.'

She rolled her eyes as she went to chopping up lettuce for a salad to go with the chicken she was planning to prepare. Despite her brother's appearance — body littered in tattoos with a sleeve for each arm, well-kept platinum blonde dreads, ears pierced from the top to the bottom as well as his a hoop for his septum — and age (barley 24) he was quite ambitious and that same ambition made him successful.

He had always loved art and could be caught sketching when he wasn't chasing girls and boys or skipping class. Their parents saw him as lazy before he got his first tattoo: big block letters spelling 'KING' on the back of his neck. After that he upgraded to delinquent. They tried everything from private school to home schooling. Malik had a habit of finding trouble no matter where he was. He proved this time and time again before he finally was sent away to a school for bad kids located in the remote desert of Nevada. However this didn't slow Malik down. He and a bunch of the newly made friends would sneak into Las Vegas at every opportunity that presented itself. When Malik called saying he wasn't coming home, Isis was probably the only one who didn't worry about him to some extreme extent.

After a year of questionable jobs (he still wouldn't admit to stripping) Malik joined one of the premiere tattoo shops in the area: 'Black Crown Ink.' It was ranked as one of the top 10 parlors in the area and was owned by none other than Duke Devlin, Isis' nosy co-worker. Despite owning the successful tattoo parlor, Duke's business ventures never stopped. Making his millions off of being a world poker champion, the guy was always looking for his next rush. He started working at the phone sex line to get hands on experience to expand his empire into the sex industry. With focus elsewhere, he entrusted Malik to running the parlor. Many doubted his abilities but within a few months after the promotion, he'd won over not only the staff but many new clientele, upping the rank on the shop.

Isis couldn't have been more proud of her brother. Malik's work ethic may have wavered at times, but when it came to something he was passionate about, his determination always went into overdrive. She always envied his rebellious nature and 'I'm going to be me regardless' attitude. If she didn't have him in her life, taking those phone calls late at night when she cried herself sick, she knew she wouldn't have ever had the courage to leave Cairo that Fall.

Isis was bent on reinventing herself into the woman she'd always wanted to be: confident, poised, intelligent and driven. She felt well on her way to this goal and even though most would find the idea of a regular at a sex line revolting or even weird as empowering, Isis couldn't help but feel oddly indebted to the 'Chairman.' He surely didn't know and she had zero intentions of letting him know, but he was the first person to ever ask for her repeatedly. She now had her first regular after working there far too long not to have gotten someone. She felt validated in her temporary career move and felt the stroke to her ego, push her right along to her next goals.

But after her last shift, she wondered if the way she felt was strictly sexual or something else. Isis didn't want to jump the gun and cut off the man; she knew she was overthinking it. But she'd never had a man ask her how she wanted a sexual experience to go. It was always their way or the highway and that wasn't just exclusive to sex. She let out a heavy sigh, the delicious smell of baking chicken breast pulling her back to reality. For now, things were good, and she would keep them as they were. Like a true Ishtar, she could worry about the consequences of her actions as they came at a later date.

"Malik, let's eat!"

"Fuck the police Isis!"

"But of course."

PLEASE READ:

UPDATE TIIIME~! I'm back guys! Sorry this took so long; I've been running around trying to find a new job and I'm hoping I have! Whether you pray, chant, send positivity in the Universe, let me selfishly ask you to direct all towards me to improve my chances of landing this job. Hahaha.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed FINALLY getting a peek into Isis' life. I intentionally wait until what I felt like the right moment was for her reveal and I hope it was as interesting as I think it is. Hahaha. Now, I'm aware I was very cryptic on Isis' past and it'll be that way for only a short time. The drama won't be serious since this is supposed to be a fun story, but I had to justify Isis working at a sex phone place to myself as well as give you all the decency to explain it other than 'she just did it.' If Kaiba has a reason to call, Isis has a reason to answer. Character sex service usage equality! Hahaha.

Posted Especially For:

CerulanSwan26 – I definitely meant sparkling. Thank you for pointing that out! Anything else you see that's weird, don't hesitate to let me know. And thank you for appreciate the detail. It's really been a challenge that I now adore.

Becks – YES! Another person who loves British slang. It's just so fun to my American ears. Hahaha. And Kaiba is a rich son-of-a-bitch. You know, you just inspired me. Look forward to someone calling out his wealthy tush in future chapters. (Wink)

Guest (1): So not only did THIS update take forever as well but you get sexy time. Hahaha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

The Thief A Pharaoh A Priest – And I couldn't be more excited over this review! Thank you very much.

Ruby of Raven – Kaiba will never not be harassed as long as I have a keyboard and the latest edition of Microsoft Word. Hahaha. Yay! I'm glad you weren't turned off by the idea. I really wanted to do some change up and make things new just to keep the interest going. And my name must be 'ballet' if I keep you on your toes. (Elbow nudge) See what I did there? (Wink)

TR: I will work harder in the future to not be so promiscuous and to have some level of creativity to my craft. Thank you for the criticism!

Guest (2): So glad you're a fan of my whorish storytelling! (Heart)

Guest (3): Trolls will never die—this is very true. Look at mythology and how hard of a time it took to vanquish them.

Moon: Jury duty was AWFUL but I made it through, thanks for the sympathy. And I had a giggle fest at you giving me a 'YAS slaying.' Never thought I'd have a fanfic get such praise! It was greatly appreciated.

Dexter: Are Slut Alerts like Amber Alerts? Instead of being on the lookout for like, a red Honda Civic with Virginia tags, is it now a 5'6 brunette wearing an eBay body con dress? I hope you can get back to me and let me know.

Still stands: If I don't get one measly review, no new chapter, however if I do get one measly review, new chapter.

REVIEW!

Well I'm Out.