Brothel: The Magnolia Diaries Page 12

  I watch as he hooks his headphones over his ear and reaches for my laptop. I can hear music blaring but can't make out just what. He pauses with a look at the laptop and I nod. Taking it, he folds down onto the chaise, his back to me. I smirk and decide he might entertain me until my next client. Sliding over, I hook my arms atop the curved foot of my bed. Then I lean over his shoulder and watch him work.

  I feel him go tense when my chin rests on his shoulder. I almost laugh. Poor guy, I'm being a whore. Not even getting paid for it. I smirk and shove closer, pretending to be interested in his work. Damn, he smells good. I breathe deep and let out that sweet, sexy smell. It flutters his thick hair and I see him shudder. Heat coils between my legs despite the orgasm I had moments before. One that he unwittingly helped me achieve.

  "Elijah," I murmur, knowing he can't hear me over that music, "why is a little innocent like you working at a whore house?" I don't expect an answer so I lay my head against the bed and close my eyes.

  "Why are you?" I start when his voice replies, soft and low and turning that heat between my legs into something different.

  "What are you listening to, kid?" I push the headphone from his left ear aside as I ignore his question.

  "Huh? Oh...uh...nothing. Nothing." I laugh when I see his ears go pink. Elijah is adorable.

  I yank at his headset gently and lean forward to slip it over my head. I laugh out loud and invade his personal space to listen to Salt N Pepa confirm its None of Your Business. Besides being super fitting for where we sit right now, it's a surprise to say the least. I expected some emo rock or some classic 80's cheese.

  "Love it, Tech Boy." I tug the headphones down but don't give them back. I am still closer than I sense he's comfortable with.

  "I enjoy nineties hip hop. I will listen to arguments that Salt N Pepa are not revolutionary." Elijah twists at the waist to smirk at me.

  Known for an icy demeanor as well as a razor-sharp tongue, I have a reply ready. I did, at least. Until those glasses and that cute smirk, the too-long hair and those chocolate eyes are directed at me. Forget the heat between my legs; it’s a fucking raging inferno now. Seriously, what the hell? Tech boy is making me hot? Not that it exactly takes a lot, if I'm being honest.

  Iciness is a shield I use to protect myself. Otherwise, I'd be labeled worse than a whore. Weak. Needy. I take my leave from here when I'm growing too close to the girls. Girls that often come and go. Only a few, like Trixie-who scares the shit out of me-stick it out for long. That's fine by me.

  I don't want to grow close to them. I'm a bitch and I hurt people’s feelings and I generally mean everything I say. Most importantly, I take what I want and that's the end. All you get out of me. All I want from you. No ties, no strings. Ever. I definitely don't want pretty eyes from awkward High School cute Elijah to bother me. Because, they don't.

  "Done yet, Tech Boy?" I nod towards the laptop he's been tapping away at. I ignore the way his grin slides away.

  "Just about." The headphones go back over his ears.

  Lying back on the bed, I watch him work in silence. Salt and Pepa blaring from his headphones. I think I make out some Bell Biv DeVoe and I smirk despite myself. Slipping a silk robe on, I unbraid my hair and let it cascade down my back. I clean up my toys from the Cam session, kicking the silly socks off. Fucking TwatDude. Sicko. I giggle and Elijah turns to watch me with what I swear is a scowl.

  Making myself some whisky with exactly three ice cubes, I start to seethe. The dick works for us. Knows what types of girls are likely behind the doors of Magnolia House. Fuck him if he can't handle us. I grow impatient as eight o'clock creeps closer. My next client is due. I empty the whisky, the slow burn warming my chest. The snap of the laptop is loud in the quiet.

  Elijah is on his feet, hooking his bag back over his shoulder. I wince when he brushes past me at the bar to head toward the door. The door quietly clicking spurs another whiskey.

  It’s late; I'm exhausted because my last client was a slow burner. Liked to talk about his day like I'm his wife or something. My jaw aches from the marathon head I had to give him. He tried to cuddle after, which he already knows is a no go. No thank you. I'm showered again and a little sore from a busy day.

  Before I call it a night, I check my email and calendar, booking some dates for the coming week. I am going through some work for my day job, some trades I need to make for an important client. A message pops up on the corner of my screen. I open it and laugh out loud. There's no actual message. Just a link to a song. Salt N Pepa Sexy Noises Turn Me On. That cheeky fuck.

  Two weeks later, I am leaving Magnolia House for my break. A few bags are packed and loaded into my brand-new cherry red Cobra. I run a hand over the curve of the fender and smirk. Damn, it's a sexy car. I'm just climbing in to leave the Magnolia girls and this beautiful house behind me for a while. I hesitate when I see him. High School cute Elijah

  Riding down the long drive framed on either side by low hanging, century old oak trees, the car is what caught my eye. I always notice the cars. I laughed out loud when I spotted Elijah behind the wheel of a restored 66' VW Bus. Cherry red with white accents. Pricey car for as silly as it looks. I hear Hip Hop Hooray by Naughty by Nature blasting and I laugh harder.

  Since the night he was in my room, we have sent songs back and forth. Nearly three weeks without conversation. Unless our songs were doing the talking for us. If that's the case, Elijah is a lot slicker than he comes off as, because good lord. Every single night at least four or five songs are sent back and forth. Maybe an emoji here and there. Nothing else. No discussion.

  Seeing him again does stupid shit to me. I see him climb down from the glistening beauty he's parked behind mine. I want to bolt. That's a new response. Elijah heads my way and I realize I feel nervous. Anxious. Also new. Those massive headphones are atop his head, but not over his ears. I think I say hello.

  "Elijah. Madam is waiting." Deck calls in his booming voice.

  Before I can see if he intended to acknowledge me, I am kicking up gravel as I speed from the drive. Who cares if he did or didn't? Who cares that we share those moments every single day? Clearly not him and certainly not me. I punch the gas on my new baby and hit 100 mph sooner than I should.

  Once inside my place, I pour myself a three cube whisky as I leaf through mail. Bill. Bill. Lawyer's office. My birthday is coming up so I know it’s about my inheritance. I don't need the money. The bills are paid, thanks to the Magnolia House. I toss it all into the trash.

  My phone beeps as I kick my Manolos off and head to change. Frustrated for no reason, I decide to go for a run. Until I see the message waiting to be ignored or opened on my screen. How in the...Elijah? I don't know it's him, because it's an unknown number. But I know it's him. The message says three words.

  "Down with OPP?" Song lyrics; another Naughty by Nature song. Elijah's music preference does not match his cute, nerdy persona but I roll with it.

  "Clearly, I am. Hi." I fall back into my bed, missing my room at the Magnolia already.

  "Yeah. Seems so. Hi. I...." The dots dance for awhile so I undress then begin to unpack.

  "I heard you. Saw you. Could smell you. I heard you come and I watched as you touched yourself. I smelled your skin. I know I....I send the songs because I don't know how to tell you how fucking bad I want you, Brooke. I know even if I did, guys pay for time with you all the time so it wouldn't matter. I had to say it because I saw you today and...." I am blown the fuck away.

  "Guys pay for less than what you just said to me, Tech Boy." I smirk though because I like that he wants me.

  "I don't doubt it. Today when I saw you...you wanted to see me. I saw it in your face, Brooke. I don't know what that means. I wasn’t going to let it not get said so...you are fucking beautiful and the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I've thought about you coming for me every single fucking night since then but I know I'm not...." I have refilled my whisky and nearly downed it before I respond.

  "Pay for m
e then. If you want me so fucking bad. That's what I can give you, Elijah." It's all I can give.

  "I will. It won't be enough. I will though, Brooke." I am not due back to the house for over a month. I ask if he will wait. Then I delete that and say something that I regret once it's sent.

  "Tonight?" I want him. I always want to get fucked. This is different. I want him but I need him to pay so it's still just business.

  "Right fucking now if Marcus lets me. Come back. Or meet me. I can't wait a month, Brooke." My knees hit the back of my bed and I fall backwards.

  I am hot everywhere and I have an idea. I can't go back tonight. It's too late and I don't even know if Marcus will allow it. Why I am even offering this, knowing it could be risky, I don't know. But I make the offer and he accepts.

  Twenty minutes later, my camera is set up and I have the laptop beside me. I am in a pink bra and panty set that makes my skin look fucking good. No longer at Magnolia, Elijah is lying on a bed mirroring my position. I hear music in the background, of course, but my head is buzzing and I can't make it out. Elijah is naked. Sweet Hades.

  Damn he has a body under those band shirts and hoodies. Wiry but defined and I spot a tattoo inside his left bicep. I want to lick it. Bite it. My eyes move over his taut torso and linger at the weight between his legs. Thank you, Hades.

  It's beautiful; thick and long and so hard it hits is navel. Where a dark patch of hair makes my fingers itch. I want to touch him so bad I fidget with need. Fuck, I want him to touch me too.

  "Fuck you're beautiful." I murmur before he can offer a single word. Because he is.

  "Shut up. You are. So fucking perfect. Didn't know women like you existed. Tell me what to do, Brooke..." I smile into the camera, at him, and shake my head. I twist on to my back and smirk.

  "You tell me what you want, Elijah. That’s how this works, honey. Did you like what you saw when you caught me?" Elijah nods, swallowing hard and looking away.

  "Yes. I couldn't look away, Brooke. You're beautiful when you come. I want that. To see you come again. I want to hear it. I want it to be for me." I consider telling him that night, it was. I think better of it.

  "Tell me what you wanted that night. Anything you wanted to do, you could have done. Tell me." Elijah lets out a sound and closes his eyes.

  "I wanted to...." I look at the camera, wishing I could make eye contact.

  "Tell, me Elijah. I want to know." He shifts and I watch his hand wrap around his cock.

  "I wanted to spread your legs and taste you because I could smell how hot you were. It stuck to me for days. I could feel it on my tongue. Taste you without ever getting to feel your wetness in my mouth." I watch him pump his cock a few times and I moan when I see precum soaking the top.

  "Do you want that? My pussy in your mouth?" He groans and his head tips back on his pillow.

  "Fuck yes." I watch his hand slow, and I spread my legs where I'm soaked.

  "Tell me what to do now, Elijah," I coo, my voice low and husky with need, "do you want me to touch myself yet?" His dark head shifts against the pillow as he twists at the waist.

  "Yes. Open up so I can see it. Take your panties off. Are you wet? I want to feel your pussy against my mouth." I can't help the moan that visual provides as I obey, yanking my panties off.

  "I'm so wet. Do you see?" I smirk with an arched brow as I swipe two fingers between my swollen lips. I don't need to pretend. I am soaked and I know he can see it.

  "Yes. Your tits are perfect, Brooke. Touch them too. Not rough like the others might ask. Just light. I would touch you so soft. I will touch you so soft." As I obey, I bite back a whimper because the idea of his long fingers soft at my skin shoot lava hot heat through me.

  For a moment, we go quiet; somehow, I know we're both seeing the same thing. Elijah over me, his hair mussed and falling into his eyes. Those cute fucking glasses. His fingers all over me, trying to be different. Better. More. Just different. I cry out as I circle my clit, hearing his grunt as he watches me. He orders me to taste myself and I do. Then he tells me to press two fingers inside and I do. My hips buck and my back arches.

  "Let me see your eyes, Brooke. Your eyes were closed last time. I want to see how they change. Keep going, beautiful. Let me see you come again. Come again and think about me touching you. Because I will. Soon, precious. Fuck you're so beautiful, Brooke." Why does that sound so fucking different? I hear it every day. Sounds so different somehow. I know that's bullshit but right now, it does.

  "Elijah. Yes. Yes. I'm coming," I cry out as I circle my clit a few more times, watching him pump his cock, "come with me, baby. Let me see you too, Elijah. Please." He growls and I swear it feels like he's right there and then he says my name. Over and over.

  It goes quiet after. Just for a moment it's just our ragged breathing and whatever music he has playing. I think its Salt N Pepa again. I feel awkward for a moment before I see him smiling at me. Shoving those glasses up his nose, a hand tugging at his thick hair. I want to feel it in my fingers. See his head between my legs like he offered. I need a drink.

  "Do I...I mean...Brooke...I have never...how do we..." Elijah lets out a sound of frustration as he rolls away on his bed.

  Fuck. He's asking how to pay me. I never do business outside of Magnolia. Unless my client wants a date-date. Then it's all handled first. It's rare. Not my style. This...this wasn’t like anything I had done before. Anger clouds my vision, blurring the perfect image of him lying beside me, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip. I don't want his fucking money. I slam the MacBook closed and kick the camera stand over.

  I make it down the hall before the phone rings. I want to ignore it. I should. I don't know what the fuck is happening. I don't have a single clue how to navigate this. I answer it because, why not make it worse?

  "I'm a fucking asshole. Brooke, please..." I feel my face twist but his sweet voice makes it worse.

  "I'm a whore. Payment is generally expected. Consider it a freebie. How about you don't set that date up? Think you might be better off limiting yourself to what you can handle."

  "Brooke...I didn't mean...yeah maybe I won't. I didn't mean what you think. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I just...Brooke..." I laugh icy and detached, starting a shower.

  "Its fine, darling. People can't handle it. I don't need or expect you to. Night, Tech Boy." I end the call and step into the shower. Icy cold, it matches my mood.

  Lying in bed that night, I ignore the messages I somehow know are from Elijah. The fun has ended. It was cute for a moment. I won't be fluffing his ego or his beautiful cock because he can't handle a woman controlling her sexuality. Fuck his double standards. That beautiful cock, too.

  Chapter Three

  Brooke

  For four weeks, Elijah texts me songs every single day. No longer just 90's hip hop. Random shit too. Jewel. Prince. I kind of assume they have some meaning. I don't listen to them. I don't know why I don't just block his number. I should because when it hits the end of the fourth week, he starts with the texts.

  Not just messages. Questions. Stupid shit. What's my favorite color? Have I ever been to New York? Do I want to see Paris? What shampoo do I use? He thinks its Herbal Essence; he smells it every time he's at the store, so he's almost positive. By week five, I am answering those damn questions. Asking them right back.

  "Orange. No, I've never left Mississippi. I want to see every place. Yes, that's my shampoo."

  "Red. I've been to New York. A lot. Business takes me places. I would take you to Paris tomorrow if you asked me. I knew it was Herbal Essence. It's in my shower right now. You smell fucking amazing."

  "Why the songs? Why the brothel, for business I mean?" It's day four of those questions when we get to the gritty shit.

  "I don't know how to say the shit I think about you, to you. Music makes it easier. I wanted you before that night, Brooke. I saw you but I mean...I knew I'd have to pay and I didn't want that. Not because I judge you. Told you...I know I'll w
ant more. The brothel because I work for Marcus." I am at work, not working because I'm kind of over the place now. Instead, I'm flirting with someone I shouldn't. Because I know he does want more.

  "Before you ask; I like sex. Don't you? I went to a party a few years ago with someone. It was sexy and liberating to watch women take what they want. From whomever they wanted. You go to a bar, pick up a chick and fuck her. You paid for her drinks all night, a cab. Maybe dinner even. Both of you want to get to the good shit. Why waste the time? We allow you to get right to it. I want it as much as they do."

  "'Course I like sex. I don't judge you, Brooke. Besides you make valid points; everyone is angling for something, right? No, I might even admire you. Doing what you want, fuck what society thinks. It's sexy." I rub my legs together. Slick mother fucker.

  Elijah drops shit like that on me all the time. It works just like he means it to. Except I don't think he even means it the way other guys might. He's just saying it because he thinks it. Leaning back and gazing out over the city, I let myself consider him. Consider why I'm chatting with him, nay flirting with him, in the middle of a work day. Why I finally started listening to those songs.

  "What's the end game with you, Elijah? I go back in two weeks. You plan to book a date?"

  "I booked you, Brooke. Right after you told me not to. I can't not...I know it won't be enough. I just want one night, at least. I don't know beyond that. I don't think long term, beautiful. I just do. I just go. I just let life happen to me. Kind of like the night I walked into your room and watched you come. I could have left. I maybe should have. Instead...." We sigh together and a shrill ring of my work phone ends that thought.

  "Two weeks then?" I think perhaps it's time to stop letting this be more than it is. More than it can be.

  "Brooke, you know you're going to hang up. I'm going to text you and tell you how bad I want you. Then I'm going to ask you your favorite Marvel movie. So, fuck two weeks. Bye, beautiful." I giggle when I end the call. Fucking giggles. What the fuck?