I put my palms up, hushing their flustered chatter to a murmur. “Ladies, I assure you—you will not be required to take off your clothes for me. But let me remind you that I have already seen each and every one of you in lingerie. Some less than others. So please do yourself a favor and kill the false modesty. I probably know the female body better than you do.”

A sardonic snort grabs my attention, and my eyes reflexively seek Allison. She looks back at me, her expression unreadable, and shakes her head slowly. I can’t tell if she genuinely disapproves or is amused. I look away, telling myself that it’s not my concern to find out.

“For the rest of the afternoon, Candi and Jewel will work with you personally on the art of anticipation. I’ll oversee it, but please think of me as merely a silent shadow. You have no reason to be coy with me. This is nothing, compared to what you’ll do for me over the next few weeks.”

I find Ally’s eyes again, her unblinking stare sparked with something new. Something dark and sultry. Something that’s answering my challenge with a rousing, “Hell yes!”

Maybe the graceful, meek gazelle that I thought I saw on Day One is not a gazelle at all. She is fierce and sexy. Confident yet restrained. I just need to get close enough to uncage her inner beast.

God, I love my job.

CANDI AND JEWEL divide the ladies up into two groups. They start out slow, demonstrating a simple, seductive hip roll before moving onto some racier moves. The ladies look on at the sidelines, too embarrassed to join in. I’m not surprised. It always takes a little time and gentle coaxing to break them out of their shells. Luckily for them, breaking them is my specialty.

I step up closer to Maryanne Carrington, pressing my front into her backside. She startles at first, then melts into me as soon as she feels my breath at her neck and my voice in her ear.

“Relax, love. You’re alright. I’ve got you,” I say just for her. I begin to sway my hips, gripping her sides and guiding her body to flow with mine. She’s stiff at first, but at the feel of my firm touch and my voice gently consoling her, her limbs loosen, and she submits to me. I work her body with mine, her softness giving into my hard plains. She sighs and nearly sags against me, her head rolling back to rest on my shoulder.

“Do you feel sexy in my arms, Maryanne?” I ask, my lips at her ear.

“Oh, yes. Oh, God yes,” she pants.

“Good. I want you to feel sexy. You know why?”

“Nuh uh.”

“If you feel sexy, you look sexy. I need you to feel like this all the time. I need you to own it. And the only way you can do that, is if you own your sexuality.” I run my hands from her round hips to the front of her stomach. She shivers and presses in closer to me. “This is part of it. This is just taking that inner sex kitten and showing her how to display her goods. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I can do that for you.”

“Good girl. Now you see Jewel there?”

“Yes…?”

“See how beautiful she is? See how sexy? You like the way she moves, don’t you, Maryanne?”

“Um…uh…” Her body goes rigid against mine, but I keep my hands on her, manipulating it to heavy drumbeats.

“Don’t lie. You like it, don’t you? You wish you could move like that.” I can feel every eye on us, but I keep my focus on her. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes,” she stammers. “I do.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear.” My gaze flicks up to Jewel, and she’s already moving into place, coming to stand beside me. I place Maryanne into her skilled hands without missing a beat. We’ve done this a dozen times—seeking out the most resistant client and breaking her down. The other women will soon follow suit.

I step back, as Jewel shows Maryanne how to use her body like only a woman can—to drive men fucking crazy.

I feel her stare on me. I can hear the unspoken questions and visualize her forehead dimpled in frustration. But I don’t look at her. If I do, she’ll see it in me. She’ll see what I was really thinking while my hands slid up Maryanne’s hips. She’ll hear whose name I really wanted to whisper, my voice raspy and thick. All my secrets will be laid bare for the entire world to see. And while I may not give two shits about appearances, I do care about my reputation. It’s all I have.

So I walk until I’m out of those four walls, away from those excited voices and those treacherous thoughts that are so easily displayed whenever I look at her.

Away from that urge to smile whenever she smiles, and laugh whenever she laughs.

I step into my home just as the cleaning staff is finishing up. I dismiss them brusquely, needing to be alone in my thoughts and misery.

I told myself I wouldn’t do this again. I’d be stronger than this. Yet, even as I think it, I’m unbuckling my slacks and yanking them down, my briefs quickly following. I groan as cool air envelops my burning hot flesh.

So hard. So damn hard it hurts.

I wrap a hand around my cock and squeeze, prolonging the needy ache. Life pumps through it, tortured by the promise of a relieving death. I stroke, feeling the veins slide underneath my thin, taut skin.

I can’t even think about how wrong this is. Never in my life have I had to jerk off in the middle of the day, and I damn sure haven’t done it in the middle of a session. I’ve never had to. But Allison…she has me off my game. Thinking about shit I shouldn’t be thinking. Doing things I shouldn’t be doing. And right now, I just need to release it. I need to purge it from my body like a sickness, so I can get better. So I can get back to being me.

I try. Fuck knows I try. I rub my shit raw like a man possessed, urging the madness from my bones. But relief never comes. Fire doesn’t erupt from deep in my gut. It just stays and kindles, building and burning to the point of pain.

With a growl, I stop, frustrated at my body’s failure to launch. I can’t do this. I can’t go on like this. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Fuck her. Fuck her and get it out of your system.

I shake the tiny voice from my head and busy myself by straightening my clothes.

Just do it. She wants it. You know she does.

I need water. Maybe I’m dehydrated. I make my way to the kitchen and down a glass of water. I refill seconds later. I’ll flush it out of me. I’ll drown this shit and move on.

You deserve her. Not him. YOU.

“FUCK!” I slam the glass down into the sink basin, shattering it into a million, tiny shards. I can’t do this. I can’t survive like this for another four weeks.

I pull out my phone and send a quick text.

Something came up.

Take over for me.

Then you and Jewel come see me when you’re done.

xx

IT’S COOLER TONIGHT, and I can smell rain in the distance. Still, I dive into the pool, the cold water stinging my skin and paralyzing my joints. I swim through it, feeling my bones and muscles awaken. It’s easier now that the heaviness in my gut isn’t weighing me down. I can be mindless here. I can let the water drown the shame and wash away their scent. I know I have no reason to feel bad; I did nothing wrong or out of character. I did what any 29-year-old man would do with two exotic dancers in his home. I did what I’ve done before.

Candi and Jewel have been associates of mine for years. The three of us hooked up during some of my more formidable years and kept in touch. When it came time to enlist help with the program, I knew they were the ones for the job.

I should have cut off all physical association then, and I had, for the most part. But every so often, we’d have a few too many glasses of champagne, and we’d fall back into that familiar pattern—them fucking me, me fucking them and them fucking each other while I watch, dick in hand.