The Job by Doris O'Connor

THE JOB
     
    Premiere
Companions, 1
     
    Doris
O’Connor
     
    Copyright © 2015
     
     
     
    Chapter One
     
    Alex
slid her key card through the slot and gasped as the door swung open to reveal
the luxurious interior of the hotel room. It wasn’t so much a room, but a suite.
She whistled through her teeth even as her unease grew.
    This
… this w as too much. What on earth was she expected to do for this ?
The dress draped over the sumptuous bed caught her attention. A shimmering
concoction of flowing aquamarine silk, it was beautiful. As she held it up to
her, goose bumps broke out on her skin when she noticed the lacy underwear set,
sheer stockings and garter belt, plus the killer stiletto sandals she also
spotted.
    A far
too visible reminder of what this job would entail.
    “You
are not expected to sleep with the clients.” Marissa’s instructions rung in her
ears.   Alex sat down on the bed with an
inelegant thump, as she recalled that particular conversation. “Having said that,
you might want to. This client is to die for sexy, or so I’m told. He had very
particular needs for this assignment. I’ve been desperate to meet him, and if
it weren’t for this damn chest infection I would be, but you’ll be perfect.
We’re the same size, so he’ll never need to know you’re not me.”
    Therein
lay the problem. Alex was indeed not Marissa. Despite her flatmate’s
reassurances to the contrary, this client would clearly expect her to have sex with him. No man paid for a hotel room as
swish as this one, provided such risqué underwear and not expect payback of
some sort. Alex didn’t even want to contemplate how much it must have cost him
to pay for the agency.
    Premiere
Companions were the elite escort agency in London, or so Alex had been
led to believe. She hadn’t quite managed to bring herself to check past the
glossy landing site her Internet search had led her to. She’d had a hard enough
time getting her head round the fact that her flatmate did … that.
    Alex
was no prude, by any means. She enjoyed sex as much as the next girl, but the
whole getting paid for it … that was wrong, wasn’t it? Which of course begged
the question as to what she was doing here in Marissa’s stead now? The buzz of
her phone in the back pocket of her jeans made her jump. She grimaced at the
display, and swiped across the screen to take the call.
    The
coughing fit in her ear reiterated why she was here. She pinched the bridge of
her nose, and waited for Marissa to be able to speak. When she did, the hoarse
croak down the line bore little resemblance to her friend’s usual bubbly
sparkle, and Alex sighed.
    “Did
you get there all right?” Marissa asked, before promptly dissolving into
another coughing fit.
    “Yes,
I did. I’ve never felt so embarrassed in my life as when I walked up to
reception and gave your name. Jeez, Marissa, this isn’t just a room, it’s a
freaking suite. This dress alone must cost more than I make in a month at the
pub. This is insane. I’ll never pull this off.”
    “Of
course you will. You grew up in that mansion after all, and—”
    “I
was the housekeeper’s daughter, Rissa,” Alex interrupted her friend.
    “So?
The point is you know this stuff by osmosis. You’re far more refined than me. That’s
why you’re perfect for this job. Perfect for the agency, period. You’d earn a damn
side more than you do in that pub—”
    “Stop
it, Rissa.” Alex interjected again. She had to grin at Rissa’s exasperated huff
down the line. “If I told you once, I told you a thousand times, this is not
the way I want to earn my living. Nothing against those that do, but I’m an
actress, dammit, not a…”
    She
couldn’t quite bring herself to finish that sentence. When there was no
response down the phone, other than Rissa’s wheeze of trying to draw air into
her lungs, the silence grew oppressive.
    “Forget
I said that. Look, I’m here, I’ll do this … this thing for you, but