Billionaire's Club: Being bought for a week turns into the unexpected

When a billionaire buys me as a companion, I have no idea where it will lead

The theme of my outfit tonight was debonair. Mostly black and white class with a touch of sultry. Like I was hiding a sexy secret. I needed to look respectable but still catch men's eyes.

I'd been working at Club Leo for almost six months, and so far, I loved my job. Before that, I had been a server at a high-end restaurant. That's where I'd been spotted and recruited.

My looks have drawn attention to me my whole life. My hair was jet black, I had startling green eyes, beautiful features, and a body that wouldn't quit. I was perfect for my current position.

At first, I had balked at the idea. Sex work had never been in my repertoire of bucket list jobs. But the general manager, Pete, at Club Leo, had convinced me it was so much more than that.

Typically, I spent my nights serving drinks to the rich elites of our fair city. The billionaire class who were looking for a bit of extravagance. We were called boys and girls, even though most of us were in our twenties and thirties. Both men and women circulated the floor.

Aside from serving drinks, I spent time sitting on laps and being appropriately affectionate with the men who found me appealing. Giggling and sighing and nuzzling necks.

Some nights, I was offered the opportunity to meet with a man in one of the closed rooms in the back. I longed for those … my pocketbook longed for those. It was paid five-hundred dollars for a blowjob and fifteen hundred to be fucked. All in addition to my healthy wages.

Over the course of the past six months, I paid off my line of credit and started working on clearing my student loan. I'd never felt this financially secure before.

I finished dressing and then called for a cab. Even my cabs were paid for by the club. As long as I remained desirable, I couldn't imagine doing any other job.

When I arrived, the evening was only beginning. A few clients were lounging in the opulent leather couches, sipping on cocktails. Most of them I knew well. But there was one new face that caught my attention. He was an elegant-looking man. Sharp features and dark, groomed-to-perfection hair. He was well-tailored. Sophisticated. Very much the billionaire.

I approached and put myself in his line of sight. I was disappointed when he simply sipped on his drink and appeared to stare straight through me. Surely, he would track me if I took a turn around the room. But he didn't. Just remained staring straight ahead.

"He's blind, Jordan." The voice in my ear was my good friend, Dylan.

I relaxed. That made sense. Men didn't usually ignore me. Even the straight ones couldn't stop themselves from looking at me. Maybe even wondering what it would be like.

"Is he gay?" I asked.

"Pete says he's open to either."

I turned from Dylan. "I think I'm going to chat him up. Never been with a blind guy before." It might be refreshing, him not knowing what I looked like.

Dylan grabbed my arm. "He's not looking for company. He's here for someone in particular. Pete made a deal with him. He's bought one of us for a week."

I furrowed my brow. "Like, away from the club?"

"Yeah, he wants to take a young guy home with him for a week."

My mind whirred through how much cash that might equate to if I were able to charge him, too. I studied the gentleman. I could easily spend a week making his desires come true.

"Oh, good … you're here." Pete patted my shoulder. "I have an unusual job for you. You don't have to take it, but I thought you might enjoy something different."

I hitched my thumb over my shoulder. "The blind guy?"

Pete nodded. "Yes, he's new in town and he's having trouble settling in on his own. He'd like some company while he gets used to his new apartment and the city."

"So, I'd be helping him with mostly everyday stuff?"

"You'd be helping him with whatever he asks for." Pete crossed his arms. "I told him you're our most amenable boy. And that you'd look fabulous on his arm when he goes out."

I was hesitant, but the thought of making a ton of extra money was swaying me. I needed to clarify with Pete. "Dylan says he paid you for me. Do I get anything extra out of this?"

"How does a cool fifty thousand sound to you?"

Dylan whistled long and low, and I coughed, nearly choking on my tongue.

"Fifty thousand? For a week? Is he some kind of deviant or something? Should I be worried about what he'll make me do for that?"

Surely, I would be expected to perform acts I might not be all right with.

"You'll need to speak with him about that before you agree."

I looked over my shoulder at the man who had finished nursing his drink.

"What's he drinking?" I asked.

"Gin and tonic. Slice of cucumber."

"I'll refresh him and introduce myself. See how it goes."

I wandered to the bar, taking my time. I needed a moment to think about what kind of questions I was going to ask him to make sure I wasn't walking into something I'd regret.

With his drink on a tray, I approached and replaced the empty glass with a full one. "I've put your fresh drink on the same coaster as the last one."

The guy looked up at me. Which I found odd. "Thank you."

"I'm Jordan."

His eyebrows rose. "Ah, I wasn't sure if you'd be interested."

"I have questions."

"Understandable." He placed his hand on his chest. "My name is Charles Prescott. You can call me Charlie. I don't intend our arrangement to be too rigid."

"And what exactly is the arrangement you're looking for?"

"Well, Jordan … I'd like a companion for a week. Someone who can guide me around my new apartment and the city. Help me organize my closet. Show me the good restaurants."

There had to be more to it than that. Sounded like a glorified houseboy situation.

Maybe it was.

"If you haven't figured it out already, I'm blind."

"Yes, Pete told me."

"That's not an issue?"

"No, not at all." I tapped my finger to my lip. "And sex?"

"Only if that's something you find yourself interested in sharing with me."

I sat on the couch beside him. "I don't have to have sex with you?"

Charlie shook his head. "I'm leaving that choice up to you. You'll have your own room. You can come and go as you please while I'm working. I may send you on errands, though."

"And you're going to pay me fifty thousand for the week?"

"Yes." Charlie lifted his drink. "My lawyers have drawn up a contract. It's in my briefcase beside my feet. Can you retrieve it and read through it? Let me know your thoughts."

A contract? This guy was serious.

I retrieved the briefcase, opened it, and found the stack of papers I was meant to read. It started simply enough, outlining what Charlie had already told me. Then it went into non-disclosure type stuff. Charlie was a secretive guy and wanted me to keep his movements to myself.

Completely understandable.

I double-checked the figure. Fifty thousand to be paid to me at the end of the week.

"I'm prepared to sign it," I said.

"Excellent." Charlie set his drink down, lifted a pen from his jacket pocket, and handed it to me. I dated and signed a week of my life away.

"Okay, done. I'll put it back in your briefcase."

He settled his lips against his glass again and took a sip. He was facing me and looking contemplative. He lowered his glass and spun the ice around. "Do you have any allergies or food preferences I should know about? I'll be ordering groceries before you arrive."

"I have a mild sensitivity to peanuts." Like many of my generation.

"Okay, I'll keep those out of my cooking."

Now, that surprised me. "You cook?"

"I love to cook. That's one of the things I need help with. Finding my way around the new kitchen." He smiled at me. His expression reached his unseeing eyes, crinkling the corners of his lids. "I'd hate to set fire to the place by mistaking the stove for the towel rack."

I chuckled and let myself stare at him. He was more than handsome. Completely out of my league but definitely my type. And he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. I might enjoy the week.

"I can certainly help you with that. Might even learn to cook a few things."

"You don't like to cook."

"Never something I felt the need to do with so many pizza joints around."

"That's very unhealthy. How do you stay so slender?"

Pete must have gone into detail about my body type. Slender but muscular. I worked out for an hour every day. Enough to give me definition. My abs were killer.

"Yeah … good genes, I guess."

"I'd rather you didn't bring fast food into the apartment. I'll cook all our meals."

"No complaints from me."

"Do you have a pet you need to make arrangements for?"

"No, it's just me at home."

Charlie nodded his head. "I don't like pets."

That tracked. The guy didn't need creatures underfoot, he could trip over them. This conversation was nice, the guy seemed cool, but I needed to wrap this up and get back to work.

"When do you want me to start the week?" I asked.

"My lawyer needs to confirm your signature. I'll do that tomorrow. Day after tomorrow?"

"Monday. Sure, that works." I rose from the couch. "Anything else?"

Charlie set his glass down on the coaster. "Could I feel your face?"

"Um … sure." I sat back down and guided his seeking hands to my face. It was an odd experience, having someone caress and examine my features. I held perfectly still.

"You've got great symmetry. Pete says you're very attractive."

"I do all right."

Charlie laughed softly as he lowered his hands. "I've kept you long enough. I'm sure you have work to do. I'll let you get to it."

"Thanks. It was nice meeting you. I'm looking forward to our week."

"That's kind of you to say."

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. "It's the truth. It'll make a nice change."

"Very good."

And with that, I jumped up and walked away. I didn't go into the backroom with anyone over the next two nights. I felt like I owed Charlie my loyalty for some reason.

---

Monday morning found me standing outside an incredible high-rise in the middle of downtown. The kind of building that had a doorman dressed in over-the-top, stuffy doorman clothing.

Charlie had texted me the address and time I should arrive. And what I should bring. Pete must have given him my cell phone number. I'd completely overlooked giving it to Charlie.

"You must be Jordan," the doorman said to me. "Follow me." He held the door open for me and then led me across the vast foyer. "Mr. Prescott is in the penthouse. I'll come up with you."

I hauled my ratty-looking luggage into the elevator and dropped it at my feet. The doorman typed in a code, and then the elevator hummed to life. Twenty-six floors until we reached the top.

As we walked down a short hallway, the doorman asked if I'd remembered the elevator code. I would need it to come and go from the building. I told him I had made a mental note.

I was surprised when the doorman used a card to unlock apartment 2601 and led us inside. I dropped my bag and entered full gawking mode. The front entry was stunning. The size of my living room, easily twenty foot ceilings, and entirely constructed of white marble.

"Mr. Prescott is working in his office. He's asked me to show you to your room."

"Sure … yeah." I picked up my bag and followed him down a wide corridor. Opulent would be an understatement for the route I was being led along.

The doorman pointed at a door to his right. "That's Mr. Prescott's office. Don't bother him while he's working." He pointed down the hall. "His bedchamber is at the end there." He stopped at a door to the right of Charlie's bedroom. Bedchamber. "This is your room."

He opened the door for me. I wandered into the lushest space I'd ever been in. The room was decorated in cool tones of beige and off-white; the walls covered in what looked to be textured wallpaper. At its center, a four-poster bed that looked enormous, and bedding that resembled a massive pillow. I could tell it was going to be difficult to drag myself out of bed in the morning.

As well as the bed was an ornate antique-looking desk. A comfy-looking couch facing a television, an old-fashioned wardrobe, and a matching dresser.

"I'll let you settle in," the doorman said. "Mr. Prescott will expect you in the kitchen at eleven thirty, in time to make lunch with him. Don't be late."

I was so enthralled with my surroundings; I didn't notice him leaving. Eventually, coming to my senses, I closed the door and threw my bag onto the bed. I may as well unpack.

Both the wardrobe and dresser were empty. I hung and folded the clothing items Charlie had asked me to bring. He'd been very precise right down to the number of pairs of underwear. Twice as many as I would have brought for a week, but I wasn't about to argue.

Fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money. It was enough to pay off my entire student loan and leave me plenty to buy a decent used car. Something I desperately needed.

Normally, I wouldn't be up so early. I worked until two in the morning last night. I set an alarm on my phone for eleven twenty and climbed onto the bed.

I was right. It was like a cloud. I must have passed out within seconds, because the next thing I knew, my alarm was going off. It took me a moment to remember where I was.

I considered changing my clothes, but what would be the point? He couldn't see what I was wearing. I could spend the next week in sweatpants and a torn shirt, and he wouldn't know. I wrinkled my nose. I couldn't do that to him. He deserved more respect from me than that.

I changed my clothes into a pair of beige slacks and a white button-up shirt and went in search of the kitchen. I saw it at the opposite end of the apartment through the living room. I had to gawk for a bit more on my way there as I wandered through the upscale but homey space.

To either side of a fireplace were shelves. On the shelves were pictures of what looked like his family as a child. And objects that might have been collected on visits around the world.

I couldn't understand why they were there. He couldn't see them.

"I'm in the kitchen," he called out, his voice echoing. "If you could help me find a wooden cutting board, that would be great."

"Of course." I jogged into the kitchen to find Charlie rambling around wearing an apron over his dress slacks and shirt, the words Kiss the Chef emblazoned on the front.

Adorable.

Each cupboard he opened, he felt around inside, then grumbled when he couldn't lay hands on what he was looking for. The noises he was making made me smile.

I started on one of the lower cupboards. Nope. There were so many, this was going to take forever. Luckily, the second cupboard I opened had a row of vertical cutting boards in a stand.

"Found them." I retrieved the wooden one. "Where do you want it?"

"On the island, across from the stove, please. I'm making an omelet if that suits you."

"Suits me just fine. Can I get the ingredients out of the fridge for you?"

"Could you? That'll save me a few minutes."

I crossed the kitchen and pulled open the massive fridge. "Name them off for me." The fridge was packed, so I had to do some digging, but I soon had his ingredients assembled in a line in front of him. I touched his arm, and he jumped a little. I hadn't meant to startle him.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault. Just give me a heads up before you touch me."

"Will do." I cleared my throat. "Starting on the left, you have the onion, then the mushrooms, red peppers next, then the eggs in a bowl, the milk, and lastly, shredded cheese."

Charlie laughed softly. "You're a natural at this. Have you worked with the blind before?"

"Nope … just made sense." I almost touched him again. "Let me get you a bowl to mix everything up in." I hunted it down with decent speed. "It's to your right."

"Yes, I heard you set it down."

Right. Metal on marble. Of course, he would have heard it. After opening and closing a few drawers, I plucked a wooden spoon out of one and set it in the bowl with a ting.

Charlie started chopping the onion. I tried not to cringe each time his knife came down. After a few slices, I could see he was an expert, and safe, and I relaxed a little.

"What kind of pot do you need?"

Charlie chuckled. "Not a pot. A cast iron frying pan. Probably in the drawer of the oven."

He was right. I lifted it onto the stove. "What temperature?"

"Let me feel what you're doing." He set his knife down and reached out toward the stove. I took it to mean he wanted to feel me set the dial. "I want the oven at three fifty degrees."

"Touching you." I took his hand and ran it across all the dials on the front of the stove. "It's the one at the far left." I set his hand on it, and he gripped the dial. I turned it to three fifty.

He felt around for a second, then seemed satisfied and turned away from me, slipping his hand away from mine. I had a sensation of emptiness with the retreat of his hand, the soft warmth.

With everything he needed in front of him, I sat on a stool at the island facing him. Mesmerized by his skill, I rested my head in my hand and shamelessly watched him.

"What are you thinking about?" Charlie asked as he moved on to cutting the peppers. "You're very quiet over there. I hope you don't mind me asking."

"Just taking it all in. The opulence of this kitchen. The unknown of the week ahead. You."

Charlie lifted his head to look at me. It must be automatic. "What about me?"

"You used to be able to see, didn't you?" It was the only explanation for him looking up at me when I spoke and looking down at his hands while he was chopping.

"Yes." Charlie nodded. "I didn't lose my sight until I was thirty-six. It was gradual, but essentially, my optic nerves decided to pack it in."

"That sucks."

Charlie laughed. "Yes, it does. But I'm good now. I get around fine for the most part."

"I noticed you have pictures in your living room."

"And you wonder why they're there since I can't see them."

Maybe I was getting too personal. "You don't need to answer that. I'm prying too much."

"No, it's a valid question, and if we're going to spend the next week together, I don't want you to have unanswered questions. I'm putting a lot of trust in you. I'd like to be transparent.

"I have them there because I know they're there. I can go over to them and feel the frames and know what picture it is." Charlie dumped everything into the bowl. "Keeps my memories alive."

Next, he cracked the eggs into the bowl, added some milk, and began to stir.

"Same goes for my mementos. I can touch them and remember the trip I took to that country. Where I bought the item and who I was with when I did."

"You can see everything in your own way."

"Precisely."

I almost leapt up from my seat when Charlie dumped the mixture into the cast iron frying pan and gripped the handle of the oven. He had mentioned trust. He needed to trust me, and right now, I needed to trust that he would tell me if he needed help putting the frying pan into the oven.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding when the pan was safely in. He spoke into his watch to set a timer, then looked at me. "Can you help me find the plates?"

"Sure thing. I'll start at the left … you can start on the right."

Lunch was quite enjoyable. The omelet was amazing, and Charlie shared with me tales of the places all over the world he had visited. Time passed with ease. I liked talking to him.

Charlie rose off his stool and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Do you mind cleaning up?"

"Not at all."

He turned to leave, then turned back. "Do not put that cast iron frying pan in the dishwasher. Just wash it with warm soap and water and leave it out for me to season."

My eyebrows dipped. "Uh … sure."

"I'll explain some other time. Right now, I need to get back to work." On cue, an alarm sounded on his watch. "I have a meeting in fifteen minutes I need to prepare for."

"Do you need me to do anything else?"

"Actually, yes. I have some suits hanging at the far right of my closet. I'd like to have them dry cleaned. I'll trust you to pick the cleaner."

I did know a good cleaner. That was the thing about wearing nice clothes for work. They wouldn't make it a second in the washer and dryer. And I often came home with cum stains.

Not sure what the guy at the cleaners thought about my spot cleaning requirements.

"I know a good place."

Charlie reached into his pocket. "Do you need money?"

I shook my head … out of habit. "No, you don't have to pay until you pick up."

"I'll leave it to you, then."

"Have fun." When Charlie left the room chuckling, I slapped my palm on my forehead. Have fun? He was about to attend a business meeting. Sometimes, I worried about myself.

After cleaning the kitchen, including leaving the frying pan out for him to do whatever he said he was going to do to it, I headed through the living room and down the corridor to his bedchamber.

Even though he'd given me permission, it felt strange opening the door and going inside.

"Okay … now I get it."

Bedchamber was accurate. It was probably the size of my entire apartment. What I entered was a lounge with what looked to be an entire living room suite. A fireplace at the end.

To the left, I could see the corner of an immense mahogany bed through a set of pocket doors. I wasn't sure which way to go to find the closet. I started in the room with the bed.

I couldn't help running my hand along his bedding. This is where he slept every night. I imagined him curled up beneath the plush blankets. Probably within silk sheets.

I almost turned back a corner to find out.

Stop being so nosy.

Turning around, I didn’t find what I was looking for. No closet. I headed off across the lounge to the other side. Another set of pocket doors. I opened them, and my breath came up short. It was a vast closet with an opening at the far end that led toward a floor of white marble.

Probably the bathroom. The closet was messier than I would have expected from someone as sophisticated as Charlie. It was one of the things he had mentioned, needing help with his closet.

I wandered the space, examining his immense collection of designer clothes. What I wouldn't give for a closet like this. Something caught my eye on one of the hangers. I pulled back a suit jacket lapel a little. There was braille along the broad top surface of the wood of the hanger.

I ran my finger across the tiny bumps. These marks meant something to Charlie. Told him what was on the hanger. I wondered how he expected me to help him. I couldn't read it.

Scanning all sides of the closet, I found the suits he'd been referring to. They were off to the right of a rack with an obvious divider between them and the clean clothes.

I retrieved them and left his bedchamber.

Fuck.

I rolled my eyes. I didn't have a car. How the hell was I supposed to get to the dry cleaners? Take the bus with thousands of dollars in suits? I'd have to take a cab. I checked my bank account balance on my phone. I had enough to pay the fare both ways.

When I typed the address of the apartment into the taxi app, I felt a sense of pride. I'd never been picked up at such a luxurious property before. I should have felt more out of place than I did.

But Charlie made it easy for me to feel comfortable in his home.

I slipped into the cab, the suits on my lap, and gave the cabbie the address. There were probably high-end cleaners in Charlie's neighborhood, but I didn't know them. I didn't want to take a chance when it came to Charlie's clothes. He was trusting me again.

After I dropped off the suits, I wandered along the row of shops, wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my afternoon. I wasn't sure what time to be back in time for dinner.

I considered texting Charlie, but the doorman had said not to disturb him while he was working. I didn't want to annoy him. The scent of flowers wafted over me from a doorway. It was a florist called Petal Pushers. I'd never been inside before. Walked past it plenty of times.

I wrinkled my nose.

Sure, what the hell.

I walked through the open door into an explosion of color. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. I let my nose lead me. I arrived at an arrangement filled with what I knew were lilies.

Leaning closer, I filled my senses with the scent of them. The bouquet was perfect. Not much on the color side, but the aroma would fill a room. I didn't have enough cash, but I was going to splurge by putting it on my credit card. By the end of the week with Charlie, I'd be able to clear the balance no problem. It was the least I could do for him.

A little after three, I arrived back at Charlie's apartment. Again, that sense of pride when I gave the cabbie the address. It felt good to be greeted by the doorman saying good afternoon, Jordan. I typed in the code in the elevator and rode it up, flowers against my chest.

I searched everywhere in the kitchen until I found something I could use as a vase. It was a clear glass water pitcher. I arranged the flowers and placed them in the center of the island.

It had been warm out. The drinks fridge I spotted earlier was calling to me. Inside, I had a choice of juices, sodas, spritzers, and beer. The last option was going to go down easy.

I cracked open a bottle of local IPA and headed for my room. It was the only space that had a television. I wondered what Charlie did in the evenings instead of bingeing shows.

I was into the third episode of my favorite slutty reality show when my door flew open and Charlie strode in. "Get those flowers out of here!" His voice was stern, which startled me.

My face burned as my skin flushed with embarrassment. What the hell had I done wrong by buying them? I rose to my feet. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd like them. They smelled amazing."

Charlie crossed his arms, his face twisted in anguish, lips tight, brows drawn. He dragged a few heaving breaths in and out, then his features softened. He reached out his hand until he found the bed and then leaned against it. "I'm sorry … it's not your fault. You didn't know."

He sighed. "I'm an ass for shouting at you."

"I don't know what I did wrong."

Charlie approached the couch and took a seat. I sat beside him. A warm hum flooded my entire body when he set his hand on my thigh. "That's because you didn't do anything wrong." He turned to face me. "You bought those flowers because you thought I would appreciate the scent."

"I wanted to buy something special for you."

Charlie smiled at me. "You truly are a sweet and caring young man, aren't you?"

I shrugged. Right, he couldn't see. "I just shrugged."

Charlie laughed. He squeezed my thigh. "My mother loved lilies. They remind me of her."

No wonder he had freaked out. I wasn't sure what the deal was with his mother, but he had looked happy in the pictures of his family. I nodded with realization. "Is she gone?"

"She died three years, four months, and fifteen days ago." He lowered his head.

"Touching." I placed my hand on his. "You were close."

"She was always my rock. My cheerleader. My best friend at times."

"You miss her."

"The scent of those flowers brought all the emotions on like a tidal wave."

"I'm sorry I did that to you."

Charlie reached up and cupped my face. "They were a kind gesture."

I sighed and leaned into his palm on my skin. "Should I get rid of them?"

"No, you bought them with me in mind. I haven't had someone do that for me in a long time." He lowered his hand, and I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped my lips.

Charlie cleared his throat and furrowed his brow. "I should start dinner. Are you hungry?" I almost reached for his arm when he stood. I wanted to go back to him touching me.

"I am." I rubbed my face, wondering what the hell had just happened. I wasn't starving for affection. I dated plenty of men. Had plenty of men caress and kiss me at work.

"Can you give me a second?" I whispered. "I'll be right with you."

"I'll get started on cutting up the chicken. You take your time."

Charlie appeared to hesitate as if he had more he wanted to say. Maybe explain why I had reacted to his touch that way. Maybe come back for more.

I closed my eyes as he closed my door.

It wasn't possible, was it? I felt like I was falling for him. I certainly wanted to be by his side. With that driving me, I headed for the kitchen. He had two chicken breasts on a cutting board. He must've heard which cabinet I found it in. His other senses were certainly heightened. I wondered if his sense of touch was too. I wanted to touch him all over.

I groaned a little as I approached the island.

"Is everything all right?" Charlie asked.

I sighed. "A little confused, to be honest."

"When I touched your face in your room."

"Yeah, it was nicer than I would have expected."

Charlie sliced into the chicken. "How so?"

"I didn't want you to stop." I leaned against the counter. "Caught me off guard."

"You made the sweetest sound when I pulled away."

My cheeks burned as they flushed. My body had overridden my brain and released a needy sound that surprised us both. "Not sure where that came from."

Charlie nodded. "Can you find the spice cupboard and grab me a few things? And the mortar and pestle." He looked at me, smiling. He must have been able to sense my confusion. "A small marble bowl and a grinding implement. It's to grind up some of the spices for the curry."

"Ah … on it."

He listed off which spices he wanted. There were so many I'd never heard of before in the cabinet. To be honest, my knowledge didn't extend much past garlic salt.

I found I could sometimes anticipate what Charlie needed. Often finding it before he asked. I'd seen the naan in with the other bread. And I knew rice was typically served with curry.

Found a rice maker and a non-stick pot as he was about to ask. We worked in tandem, and it felt good. Before long, we were sitting down in the dining room. I sat across from him.

I liked watching him. He really was gorgeous.

Not sure what came over me, but beneath the table, I extended my leg until my foot touched his ankle. He coughed and popped his head up, looking surprised and then contemplative.

"Jordan."

I smiled at him and withdrew my foot. "Sorry. Forgot to say touching."

Charlie tipped his head. "Wouldn't have seen that move coming even if I could see."

I cleared my throat. "The urge overtook me."

"I see." He paused, then went back to eating his curry. After a few bites, he set his cutlery down on his plate. "I'd like you to help me with my closet tomorrow. One of the movers, in their infinite wisdom, took all my clothes off the hangers to pack them."

"You need help putting them on the proper labeled hangers."

His eyebrows went up. "You noticed the braille on my hangers?"

"I have a bad habit of being a little nosy."

"You're curious. Nothing wrong with that. Means you're interested in learning."

I laughed. "Maybe I'll tell you my other faults so you can put a positive spin on them."

"I'm confident your good qualities outweigh the negative."

I shrugged. "Nice of you to say … I just shrugged."

"We need to work on boosting your confidence."

I hummed. I loved the sound of that … we. "I think I might be a hopeless case when it comes to that. The only thing I'm confident about is my looks."

"Is that why you took a job at Club Leo?"

"That and the money sounded good."

"You don't mind doing sex work?"

I poked at a piece of chicken. "Not my first choice of jobs. Modeling has always been up there. I have a university degree in English, but I'm not sure I can use that for anything."

"Bachelor's?"

"Yeah … I know, if I got my Master's, I could teach high school. It has crossed my mind."

"Are you interested in teaching?"

"Maybe. I feel like I'm too young still to teach teenagers."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

Charlie laughed. "I wish I were twenty-five. You have so much ahead of you."

"So do you."

Charlie pursed his lips. "No, I think time has passed me by."

"I don't believe that. You're nice, rich, and hot. The world is yours."

Charlie chuckled. "Glad you think so, but you've overlooked I'm blind."

"Doesn't stop you."

"It's stopped a lot of things. I used to love driving in the countryside and enjoying the sight of the sun falling on green grass and rolling hills. Especially, after a rain."

I blinked, looked down at my plate, and frowned. "Yeah, that must suck."

"And I'm missing out on seeing what my companion looks like. That might be the worst."

My breathing increased in speed. We were dancing on the edge of outright flirting. Even my touching his ankle had been subtle. "What do you do for fun at night?"

Charlie shifted in his chair and picked up his fork. "I usually listen to music and read."

"In the living room?"

"In my bedchamber."

Be brave.

"Do you want company?"

"Did you bring a book?"

"I always have one going on my phone."

Charlie laughed. "Heathen."

"Guilty. You have books in braille?"

"I do, but sometimes I'll listen to an audiobook."

That might facilitate a bit of cuddling. I wanted to be near him, have his hands on me. "I'd like to do that with you tonight, if that works for you."

"It does." Charlie cleared his throat. "It most certainly does."

"Perfect." I finished my curry while Charlie did the same. When we were both done, I collected the plates and brought them into the kitchen. Charlie followed me.

As I placed the dishes in the sink to rinse, he stepped up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, his chest to my back, and kissed the back of my neck.

I moaned and tipped my head down.

More.

"I hope this is all right," he said.

I turned in his embrace to face him. "More than all right."