Sunday afternoon. One of my more regular clients. He had not known it, but I would never be at his bidding again–I had three jobs left before I’d paid off the debt, and I would quit by the next weekend. Or so I thought. The next Wednesday lunch time, a text from William had booked me in for the evening. I’d agreed. Somewhere not too far from me, Joseph had opened his confirmation email and known that in just a few hours, I would be on my knees for him. So it came to be that I was still a whore, albeit for only one client. God knew, I’d be his whether he paid me or not. This morning, I seemed to have a boyfriend. However it had occurred, it felt organic and calculated in equal measure. He claimed that I belonged to him. That wasn’t necessarily true. I ought to have told him that, should have whispered the warnings that brewed, but I needed to enjoy the calm before the blade. The sun, velvet and beautiful, bounced off the froth in the mouth of the tempest. I wanted this. Something cracked urgently beneath my breastbone.
