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Miss Lorraine, the proprietress, was known to run a quality establishment and, as a result, her girls weren’t exposed to the most base of society as were many of the girls who worked in the seedier saloons and brothels in town. With all that, they knew that their primary job was to provide a good time for the men who were willing to pay their services. Jessie ruefully reflected that a whore was still a whore, no matter the quality of the clientele. But, she was grateful to work for a woman like. “Hi, I’m Brent.”Brent was Emma’s height, looked to be in his late twenties, and was somewhat plain but otherwise good looking. Not overly rugged, but fit. He had glasses and short brown hair. Oh, and a wedding ring, she noted.“So what’s this little guy’s name?” Emma said, bending down to pet the pug.“Bruiser,” Brent answered with a laugh.“For real?” Emma asked, looking up.“For real,” he answered. “I’m a big fan of irony.”“Well, then ‘Hello, Bruiser’,” she said rubbing his back. He turned away. "I heard she was a shy little thing." If she gets back and doesn't end up in the market square again." I turned to see Colonel Nubaro and a distinguished looking gentleman in a suit and, incongruously for this country, wearing an expensive tie. "May I introduce Peter Spencer from your Foreign Office." Sorry Sir, I didn't know you were there..." Good afternoon Miss Eves and Mr. Hart. I hope we can talk about your problems a little more calmly when you've cleaned up." Yes, I think that would be. This was what I'd dreamed of for so long and it wasn't disappointing me at all. Kevin's hands were digging through the layers of my wedding dress, searching blindly for the real me.Kevin kicked the door closed, carrying me with awkward stilted steps towards the large bed and he laid me down upon it carefully, still kissing me, never letting me go. I could barely breathe. I didn't want to breathe; I just wanted to feel him against me, inside me. I needed him, my young black body hungry for his.
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