Keira After spending an hour getting ready, I take one more look in the mirror to check that my black hair is properly styled, that my dress fits my curves perfectly, that nothing is out of place, and that my make-up is as glamorous as the night deserves. I was hired as an escort by a German businessman named Sebastian Decker, owner of a very successful fleet of commercial ships. At 35, he is one of the richest men in Germany. In the photograph I saw in his client file, I could only appreciate his serious face, with slight lines marked on his forehead, light eyes, a long and profiled nose, asymmetrical lips, short coppery hair, and a very neat beard covering his wide jaw, fitting perfectly with his features. I found him attractive, although that should be irrelevant; this job is not about being captivated by the client; it is just about being there for them, smiling and nodding for their friends, associates, or anyone around them. Anyway, I'm not on the hunt for any guy, like most of

Are you going to let go of that device at some point? I'm having a hard time restraining myself. I'm not the submissive, ass-licking type who obeys without protest. Although this job has made me bury my head a few times like an ostrich. Without a doubt, Sebastian Decker's name will occupy the position of one of the most hostile men I've ever been hired by. My friend Jess and I keep a blacklist of the most obnoxious clients we've ever had, and the last one she added was as sour as lemon, but this one is worse than stomach acid. I think her forehead is an eternal scowl, and she hasn't smiled in years; it even makes me miss Paul Richmond's "green old man loose hand." And believe me, the comparison alone is a great offense. When the limo pulls to a stop, the Decker machine operates automatically and stows its technological gadget inside its tuxedo. I press my lips together to contain my laughter at my comparison of him to a robot. Sometimes my mind plays very childish jokes on me.

I try to be a better escort for Mr. Decker, I don't want to end up with a bad review that will affect future hires, but I can't help but wonder why a handsome, wealthy man like him would have to resort to an escort. Wouldn't it be easy for him to find a woman he really wants to be with? The thought of him being gay crosses my mind again, but I instantly rebut it because he doesn't seem to be. Something about the way he touched me told me he was enjoying it. I abandon that thought and focus on the rest of the guests seated at the table. Karl and Cameron are young and treating each other with great affection. He brings an appetizer to her mouth; she wipes the corner of her lips with her thumb. They kiss, they have done it several times, then whisper things in each other's ears and smile, looking into each other's eyes. “How long have they been dating?” Cameron asks before taking a sip of his Martini. I wait before I say anything. I know Decker must answer that any minute, before it

“You have turned out to be the opposite of what I expected. You can't concentrate, you contradict me, you challenge me... I don't think I should continue working as an escort.” “Do I challenge you?” I question, raising an eyebrow. He looks around, making sure no one is watching us, and runs both hands down the sides of his head as a gesture of exasperation. “Just come upstairs with me, I promise I won't touch you," he says quietly, making sure no one else hears. “Okay," I agree with a sigh. Decker presses the call button, the doors open, I step in first and he follows me. His perfume floods the cabin and hypnotizes me. He smells so good; I like Sebastian Decker more than I'm willing to admit. “He really didn't try anything.” Asks my best friend Jessica, her brown eyes widening as I tell her about the night I spent with the poker-faced German billionaire. “Really. We entered the huge suite, and he said to me in a thick, arrogant voice: "At twelve o'clock, Dimitri will come f