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Rule 1: I should only call him "Sir" and never ask his name.
Rule 2: I am his doll. He can do anything he wants with me. Always say “Yes” to whatever he wants unless doing it will put me in danger.
Rule 3: Always ask his permission before doing anything by myself.
Rule 4, 5, 6, and so on. The rules tell me that I should not become a woman but a pet to that stranger. I should not have a mind of my own, and my body is no longer mine. I should never hope to become Cinderella or any of those princesses in instant love fairy tales.
I close the rule book and look out the window as the car drives on the street of one of the private islands in Hawaii. My mouth drops in awe over the scenery surrounding me. The road leads to a tall plateau that overlooks a great view of the ocean. The water reflects the sky while the sunlight turns everything more vivid and bright. Flowering tropical trees grace the sides of the road. The scent of the flowers mixes with some strange citrusy smell in the air.
The island is a paradise! I sigh and shake my head while thinking about how unfair life can be. The man and his organization of billionaires can afford to buy a private island for leisure while some people like me struggle to pay monthly rent.
I look at the rule book given to me. My decision may be immoral to some, but it will change my future. I have already started this road; I shall take the good benefits I can get. One day, when I become a successful doctor, becoming an escort to a billionaire will only be an insignificant memory. I only have to remember the most important rule. NEVER FALL IN LOVE WITH THE MAN. I should never give in to my hormones.
Yes. It's not my heart controlling my feelings. It's the hormones. My attraction toward the man is temporary. When I can no longer look forward to having sex with him or have no reason to do it with him, my hormones will regain their balance. I will no longer crave his touch or feel in love with him.
The car stops in front of a white mansion with mostly glass walls. Bushes of different tropical roses and other flowers cover the boundary of the lot. As I step outside, the fresh sea air greets me, almost rejuvenating my tired muscles from the long flight.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tannie," I grit my teeth upon hearing the nickname.
Does the man even know my name? I tried finding out who he was, but the escort company is strict about the non-disclosure agreement. Can it be that he doesn't know my name, too? My lips twitch. Even if the man knows my name, what would he want from me? He'll be interested in my holes and not about who I am. Just like our first night.
“The master is waiting by the pool,” the maid in her fifties tells me while leading me inside.
My toes curl when a sudden excitement sparks on the tips of my toes and fingers. I tried to bury my curiosity about that man, but the excitement of knowing him kept it alive. It's not stubbornness but human nature. He's the man who had me first, so I should know him and his face.
Especially when I thought I failed his initiation. The money I earned from giving him my first experience helped me with my initial tuition fee. I only need to deposit the rest of the amount before my interview with the thoracic department. But I also have to give up the rest of my part-time job. Dr. Malone warned that Osler placed my application on hold because of my situation. Some heartless doctor named Sinclair James wants the interns to focus only on their studies and nothing else. Easy for him to say. He probably came from a wealthy family who bought his way to being a doctor!
I'll wring that doctor's neck when I become a surgeon. Sinclair James. My heart stops a bit at the thought of the name. Can it be him? I haven't met him since he only tends to VIP patients or those needing critical thoracic operations. He's also one of the directors of Osler. So, he's probably in his fifties. But Dr. Malone is also a director, and he's barely thirty-five.
Sinclair James is not that man. Why? Dr. Malone is engaged to a beautiful rich girl. So, this Dr. James is probably the same. He would not spend weeks with an escort to satisfy him. He can have models, actresses, and heiresses to date. Fuck. He’s probably married.
I shake my head and continue to follow the maid. My feet become heavy as we near the pool. What if I expected too much? You know, I'm expecting a fantasy of a handsome Prince Charming, but I'll have a Quasimodo. Carmen! I always say looks don't matter, but again, human nature. We desire beauty first before personality, even if it doesn't matter to my situation.
A lump builds in my throat while my heart races. Handsome Prince Charming? I'm trapped in innocent fairy tales. The man isn't Prince Charming. He's a gorgeous being. We're not talking about George Clooney sexy, but a young Bruce Willis sexy. He's bald and beefy. Judging by the minimal wrinkles on his face, I think he's in his early forties. Wow! He's about fifteen years older than me.
Yet he looks good. He’s a real “your daughter calls me Daddy, too,” guy.
The tropical heat is scorching, but I tremble when he walks closer to me. His eyes look bluer than the sky. I almost laugh seeing beads of sweat on his scalp. His thick eyebrows make his eyes look deep and dark. His lips...
No wonder he kisses well.
Strangely, my pussy walls throb, and my nipples harden when the memory of how the whole of him had me that night. His attractiveness is an oxytocin trigger. I should look at my decision as a sin. But with him in front of me, I look forward to the delight instead.
“Do you want to rest? It was a long flight.” My heart dances at his voice.
It's crazy. Dana said that when she did it the first time, nothing changed. The night was all about sex and nothing else. I should think that way, but I keep thinking differently. This man is fueling my fantasy of being Cinderella.
“I- I’m fine. It was a comfortable one, actually,” I try to sound calm, but my shaky voice gives away my excitement about meeting the man again.
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