Twisted Perception (Flawed #2)
TWISTED PERCEPTION
T.L Smith
Copyright 2015 TL Smith
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
WARNING
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is intended for adults ONLY. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Cover -
LM
Creations
Formatting - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angels-Indie-formatting
Editing by
Swish Design & Editing
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This story is not one of rainbows and happily ever after’s, so if you’re looking for that, stop reading. My story is fucked and deluded, just like the person telling it.
You see, I’m a trafficker. I traffic gorgeous young men for my clients,
the lonely old women whose husbands are more than likely off cheating on them.
You’re not going to like me; I’m not going to lie.
I’m a bitch, a manipulator, the type of girl your mother warned you about.
Prologue
I want to tell you a story, a story about some fucked up people. I am one of those fucked up people, among many. I was a woman who didn’t take no for an answer. I got what I wanted and I was good at what I did. My job was not something ordinary people could do—you had to have no heart. Be cold as the cement beneath your feet and that’s who I was. Well, I thought I was.
My job was hard, but I was good at it. I thought I would always be good at it. I was a fucked up person filling other people's fucked up realities, and that’s not even the worst of it. You may hate me by the end of this story, but I don’t really give a fuck. I don’t strive for people to love me or even like me.
So to tell you my complicated story, and how I came to where I am today, I have to take you back—back to the beginning.
Chapter 1
One year ago.
I would like to tell you my childhood was so fucked up and that’s the reason I do what I do, but that would be a lie. My childhood was like most people’s. I had a mother and father, and they loved me greatly. I have a brother and a sister, and though they get on my nerves, we love each other just as much.
No, my upbringing had nothing to do with the person I am today. That came from a night out with my brother and his new girlfriend. My brother was my twin. We do look a lot alike with our dark hair, tanned skin, and the same hazel eyes. Unlike him, my body was covered in ink, which my family wasn’t a fan of. But the ink was my way to express myself, to be different—I yearned to be different I didn’t want a mundane life.
So anyway, where was I? Oh yes, my brother. Sometimes he knew me so well he knew what I was thinking without saying it. It could be useful at times and some, not so much. Our baby sister, who was only one year younger than us, could pass as our twin as well. We all looked alike though our personalities differed significantly.
Jagger was my twin and a male whore working his way through law school. Jessa was my baby sister and I’m pretty sure wanted to be a Goth. Me, my name is Aria and I was lost and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Nothing interested me and I felt time was ticking away. I was almost twenty-five and still lived at home with my parents. I worked at a café that I absolutely hated—it was full of rich and snobby people. There’s no way in hell I planned to work the rest of my life waitressing but as I said, I was fussy.
That changed one night with Jagger’s girlfriend, a lawyer named Celcia. I’d known her for a few years though we’d never talked much. I knew she knew all about me from my brother. As much of a whore as he was, he also had a bigger mouth than a drunken girl. Celcia had one too many drinks and decided to tell me about her sex life. I wasn’t interested until she told me how she’d found her sexual partners. In the beginning, I thought she was lying, I thought that doesn’t happen in the real world, only in movies or books. She asked for my number and told me they wanted someone new, someone who could get the job done. Whatever “the job” was? I brushed her off and thought nothing of it. That was until one night at work.
I never gave a second thought to what Celcia told me that night because I assumed she was drunk and making shit up. She wasn’t. I should have listened carefully, taken in all that she was drunken rambling about. So the following week when a gentleman came up and asked for me by my name, I was surprised and when he asked to talk to me in private. Then he asked me how many times I’d been in love and how many sexual partners I’d had, and I was ready to punch him. He laughed at me and introduced himself as Dominic. He wouldn’t tell me much at first. He wanted to get to know me, to see what I was capable of. He was in his early thirties, short dark hair, very attractive, and dressed in a suit. Mysterious, that was what he was.
“Celcia said you’re what I am looking for. She said you’d be able to handle what I need to be done. I’m not quite sure. You seem too young, too good.” I wanted to yell at him, to scream at him. The way he said “good” was like I was still a schoolgirl that did no wrong. So I answered all his questions that day, even the ones I didn’t want to. I needed to know more about what he was offering, even if that meant telling him things I didn’t want to.
“Have you been in love?”
“No.”
“Do you enjoy sex?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to fall in love?”
“No.”
“Do you want a husband and kids?”
“No.”
“Could you hurt someone so bad that they’re pleading with you, and knowing you’re not allowed to stop?”
“Yes.”
“Can you be discreet?”
“Yes.”
The questions went on and on. It seemed as though he was testing me, trying to gain an insight into my limits, seeing what made me tick. I wasn’t lying when I answered his questions, I didn’t want those things. I liked to spoil myself, have everything to myself. I was selfish and I didn’t like to share. I grew up sharing everything my whole life, whether it was with my sister and my clothes, or my brother knowing my thoughts. I wanted to separate myself from that, to be my own person. Dominic was offering just that.
“I’m not going to lie, you’re a beautiful woman. It’s what I look for and a big factor in what I do. But so is strength. I don’t want someone who would fuck up my operation because she cared too much, or she thought what I do is too cruel. I strive in my business, Aria. If you fuck with my business…well, let’s just say you would not be happy.” He leans back in his chair and takes me in—seemingly looking for something in my expression that told him I would crack. I’ve started to master my facial expressions. One needs to do so when your family can pick up on the smallest details.
“Meet me tomorrow at this address, if you think you can handle what I’ll show you. You might have yourself a job.” He stood and held out a card to me, I took it and stood to shake his hand. He looked me over again, this time his eyes roamed my body from top to bottom, and then he left without a word
I stood there bewitched by him and his questions. I wondered what kind of job would require such information. Surely, what Celcia had said couldn’t be true. Women don’t traffic men, do they?