learned that lesson the hard way.
After an hour, her Oscar-winner had turned into a puddle of blissed-out goo at her feet. He kissed her boots, declared his undying devotion and begged her to let him see her again next weekend.
“I might consider it,” she said. “But only if I check the newspaper and see that you’ve issued a public apology to your assistants.”
“Done,” he pledged. “I’ll do it today.”
“Good. Now get the fuck off my feet.”
Her client pulled a bathrobe on and walked her to the door.
“My new assistant is outside. He’ll walk you out.”
“How gallant...of your assistant.”
She stepped back into the hallway and found Lance and another man waiting in the hallway. The other man had about five inches on Lance and at least fifty pounds. Apparently Oscar’s “assistant” was actually his bodyguard.
“You don’t have to walk me out,” Nora told the bodyguard. “I have my own babysitter.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “I do have to frisk you first.”
“Frisk me? I don’t think so,” Nora said. “You can check my bag to make sure I didn’t steal any ashtrays, but the body’s off-limits.”
“Have to do it,” the bodyguard said. “Don’t want any pictures out there.”
“Look, the lady said don’t touch her.” Lance stepped between them. “This woman’s a professional. She doesn’t take pictures of clients.”
“I’d hardly be beating the shit out of Oscar-winners if I couldn’t be trusted not to blow their covers, now could I?” Nora chided in her most patronizing voice. “I don’t have a camera on me. Your boss’s little secrets are safe. We’re leaving.”
She turned around but stopped when a big heavy hand clapped down on her shoulder with enough force to make her knees buckle.
“Excuse me—” she started to say but all words became unnecessary when Lance grabbed the bodyguard by the forearm. In seconds Lance had the man on his stomach, his arm twisted behind his back.
“You touch her again and you lose this arm,” Lance said, his voice calm but menacing.
“Get the fuck off me.” The bodyguard tried to rise up and Lance slammed him back down again.
“You fight like a bouncer. In other words, you’re a shitty fighter. So stop trying or I’ll dislocate your shoulder for the fun of it.”
“That is fun,” Nora agreed. “Especially when you pop it back in again.”
“You ready to go, Mistress?” Lance asked.
“I was ready five minutes ago.”
“Then let’s go. You,” Lance said to the man underneath him, “you stay here. I’ll walk the lady out.”
“What lady? You mean the slut in the black boots over there?”
Nora gave him a little royal wave.
“Dude, you really should not have said that.” Lance sighed. With one jerk of his arm, he popped the man’s arm out of his shoulder socket. The man screamed even louder than his boss did.
“Lance, put his shoulder back in right this second.” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Anything you say, Mistress.” With another jerk he popped it back and man screamed again.
Lance stood up and left the man on the floor writhing in pain. Arm in arm she and Lance walked toward the elevator.
The elevator doors closed and she and Lance dissolved into laughter.
“Thanks for taking care of that big dumb behemoth for me. Does he not realize ‘slut’ is a compliment in our world?”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I probably shouldn’t have dislocated his shoulder.”
Nora shrugged. “Kingsley once sanded a guy who got too handsy with one of the submissives.”
“Sanded? Like with sandpaper on sensitive parts of the male anatomy?” Lance winced.
“No, that would have been barbaric.”
“That’s a relief.”
“He used an electric sander.”
Nora and Lance swung by Kingsley’s for lunch and put Mr. Oscar-Winner on the No-Play list. Kingsley had a strict one-strike-and-you’re-out policy for clients. One misstep and they lost any chance to play with his
After an hour, her Oscar-winner had turned into a puddle of blissed-out goo at her feet. He kissed her boots, declared his undying devotion and begged her to let him see her again next weekend.
“I might consider it,” she said. “But only if I check the newspaper and see that you’ve issued a public apology to your assistants.”
“Done,” he pledged. “I’ll do it today.”
“Good. Now get the fuck off my feet.”
Her client pulled a bathrobe on and walked her to the door.
“My new assistant is outside. He’ll walk you out.”
“How gallant...of your assistant.”
She stepped back into the hallway and found Lance and another man waiting in the hallway. The other man had about five inches on Lance and at least fifty pounds. Apparently Oscar’s “assistant” was actually his bodyguard.
“You don’t have to walk me out,” Nora told the bodyguard. “I have my own babysitter.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “I do have to frisk you first.”
“Frisk me? I don’t think so,” Nora said. “You can check my bag to make sure I didn’t steal any ashtrays, but the body’s off-limits.”
“Have to do it,” the bodyguard said. “Don’t want any pictures out there.”
“Look, the lady said don’t touch her.” Lance stepped between them. “This woman’s a professional. She doesn’t take pictures of clients.”
“I’d hardly be beating the shit out of Oscar-winners if I couldn’t be trusted not to blow their covers, now could I?” Nora chided in her most patronizing voice. “I don’t have a camera on me. Your boss’s little secrets are safe. We’re leaving.”
She turned around but stopped when a big heavy hand clapped down on her shoulder with enough force to make her knees buckle.
“Excuse me—” she started to say but all words became unnecessary when Lance grabbed the bodyguard by the forearm. In seconds Lance had the man on his stomach, his arm twisted behind his back.
“You touch her again and you lose this arm,” Lance said, his voice calm but menacing.
“Get the fuck off me.” The bodyguard tried to rise up and Lance slammed him back down again.
“You fight like a bouncer. In other words, you’re a shitty fighter. So stop trying or I’ll dislocate your shoulder for the fun of it.”
“That is fun,” Nora agreed. “Especially when you pop it back in again.”
“You ready to go, Mistress?” Lance asked.
“I was ready five minutes ago.”
“Then let’s go. You,” Lance said to the man underneath him, “you stay here. I’ll walk the lady out.”
“What lady? You mean the slut in the black boots over there?”
Nora gave him a little royal wave.
“Dude, you really should not have said that.” Lance sighed. With one jerk of his arm, he popped the man’s arm out of his shoulder socket. The man screamed even louder than his boss did.
“Lance, put his shoulder back in right this second.” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Anything you say, Mistress.” With another jerk he popped it back and man screamed again.
Lance stood up and left the man on the floor writhing in pain. Arm in arm she and Lance walked toward the elevator.
The elevator doors closed and she and Lance dissolved into laughter.
“Thanks for taking care of that big dumb behemoth for me. Does he not realize ‘slut’ is a compliment in our world?”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I probably shouldn’t have dislocated his shoulder.”
Nora shrugged. “Kingsley once sanded a guy who got too handsy with one of the submissives.”
“Sanded? Like with sandpaper on sensitive parts of the male anatomy?” Lance winced.
“No, that would have been barbaric.”
“That’s a relief.”
“He used an electric sander.”
Nora and Lance swung by Kingsley’s for lunch and put Mr. Oscar-Winner on the No-Play list. Kingsley had a strict one-strike-and-you’re-out policy for clients. One misstep and they lost any chance to play with his
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