See Jayne Play

See Jayne Play

Jami Denise

First Kindle Edition

Copyright © October 2013 by Jami Denise

All rights reserved

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CONTENT WARNING: This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic, or violent nature and is intended for adults. 18+ Story includes graphic language, violence, and sexual situations.

Cover design & Layout -
Mayhem Cover Creations

DEDICATION

To the woman that fostered my love of reading and books, and still believes in my imaginary friend.

And the man that brought me up to have the strength to try and to take risks with my middle finger in the air.

To my mom and dad.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

About the author

For everyone knows that it requires very little to satisfy the gentleman if a woman will only give her mind to it

Margaret Oliphant

ONE

Soapy froth surrounded me as I splashed around in the tub. Being submerged in bubbles was one of those little luxuries I never denied myself. It was the only time I could really clear my head and just think. My life had become a mess, and although I had to resort to a tiny fiberglass piece of heaven to avoid it, it was enough.

I pushed the suds around with my hands, letting my mind wander. I’d been looking forward to a quiet night off, but with my pockets empty and thugs on my ass, I had to sacrifice my peace for another night with another man.

I wanted to flat out refuse when Vince called me with a new client. I was not in the mood, and he knew it. The more I argued, the more he pushed. Another date, another dollar. And we needed lots of dollars.

I think I was more annoyed by the request given by the guy more than anything. He’d rattled off a lengthy list of demands, ridiculous point by point orders. It was arrogant, and I was a bit offended. He’d asked for me personally, so I wasn’t sure why he felt the need to push his orders down my throat. I was the best at what I did. I could mold a church mouse into a vision of desire that any man would fall to his knees to have.

But, it wasn’t my job to question them. I was there to give them what they wanted, and then move along.

Honestly, I was bitter about having to take dates in the first place. I’d moved away from that part of my life. No longer did I need to spread my legs for men desperate enough to pay me. Instead, I lined up girls to do the dirty work for me. I prospered. I was good at it, and I liked it that way. That was until Vince called with the message that my father was being held hostage for a debt he owed in a poker game.

I was glad I hadn’t refused. The Maguire Grand was the newest, most exclusive and elite hotel and casino in town, and I’d wanted to see the place for a while. A fat payout was just the cherry on top. Meeting a client there meant my luck was starting to turn in the right direction.

With the endgame in sight, double or nothing always got my attention.

Remembering what life had been like a month before was impossible. The girl I’d been and the dreams I had were gone—obliterated—in the span of a ten-minute phone call.

All it took was one phone call to shatter my dreams, my heart, and eventually, my soul.

Sure, I’d been given choices, but none of them were desirable. They weren’t choices at all. They were demands and ultimatums.

I had to shake off the resentment. It plagued me, but those thoughts didn’t belong in my head before heading out for a date. My switch needed to be on, the façade in place, so with a sigh, I put them out of my mind. There was no use in stressing when there was nothing I could do until I had enough money to get out of the situation.

My nerves were at an all-time high by the time I pulled up in front of the hotel and into the valet station. But as soon as I stepped out of the car, Jayne was on stage. Handing the keys to the young attendant, watching him blatantly check me out, I felt alive. Typical behavior from a man, but it was always fun getting that kind of attention. I craved it, thrived on it. It was part of the job, and if I was honest, it was the best part. My sole purpose was to draw them into my web like frantic flies to a cube of sugar.

Young, old, and everything in between. They were a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.

“
You take good care of her,” I purred seductively, running my hand over the hood.

I loved my little red car, and she got almost as much attention as I did. Men characteristically found both cars and women irresistible; they never outgrew that little boy curiosity. They were all obsessed with figuring things out, finding out how they ticked.

“
Of... of course, ma’am,” the young man stuttered, blinking rapidly and fumbling with the keys.

I winked at him as I walked away, sauntering through the entrance and toward the concierge desk.

“
Good evening, Miss King. We’ve been expecting you.”

Marcy, the concierge, was an old friend of sorts. She’d accommodated guests with requests for me and my services several times at other hotels. It was no surprise that she was behind the desk at The Maguire Grand. She was the best at what she did, and I was happy to see that she hadn’t lost her compliant nature. Clearly intimidated by me and the powerful company I kept, she scrambled around, making sure I was comfortable and taken up to the suite as quickly as possible. She didn’t miss a beat, even though it’d been years since I’d last seen her.

I’d always liked that about Marcy—even when she was flustered and uneasy about the risqué nature of my visits, she always treated me professionally and kindly. It wasn’t always the case with hotel clerks. The judgment, the rude remarks—they were all part of the job and came with the territory, but there were days when it got to me. It was one of the many reasons I’d decided to end that part of my life. I hated the reminders, and seeing her was a vivid one.

Today wasn’t one of those days, however. I was headed toward a lucrative evening, so I held my head high as the bellboy motioned me to the penthouse elevator, and walked with the poise of a woman worthy of a thousand dollars an hour.

The hotel was impressive, and as my heels clicked against the marble floors of the lobby, I knew I was in for a night. The casino was spectacular, and very exclusive. Anyone who could afford a suite in the penthouse of The Maguire was a high roller, and then some. A smile lined my face with the thought. Another penny—or a few thousand—closer to my goal in one night was a tantalizing thought.

My mood improved tenfold after walking into the hotel, and my adrenaline pumped furiously as I followed the young man to the elevator at the back of the lobby—the one that led straight to the penthouse.

He pressed a button to the left, and the doors slid open. He kept his eyes averted, which was cute, but I could tell by his body language that he was dying to sneak a peek. I smiled. As we rode up to the twenty-first floor, I checked myself over in the wall-to-wall mirrors inside. I touched up my lipstick, patted down my hair, and straightened the belt on the coat I’d been asked to wear. Chuckling under my breath, I thought about how cliché it was to arrive in a trench coat and stilettos, and could only assume my date was some horny old man with a nothing underneath fantasy. I had no idea what they found alluring about it, but who was I to judge? I was there to put on a show, to do a job, and do it well.