For the first time in my life, I woke up with a man sliding in and out of me. He was fucking me awake. I twisted trying to get into a new position but his tight grip on my hips stopped me. His face was buried in the nape of my neck. My inner thighs were dried from out cum. I needed a fucking shower. I laughed suddenly and he paused mid thrust.

"You're laughing at me while I'm fucking you?" He bit my neck.

I didn't like speaking before brushing so I stretched wrapped my legs around his waist, giving him a good squeeze. My body tingled, feeling his hands glide up and down my skin. I'd never felt like this before. He resumed his thrusts and I joined in this time, squeezing his butt, urged him to go faster but he wasn't complying. He was to make it last.

Every inch of my body was against him. I felt the scars on his chest, the round scarred tissues on his back. My thighs were pressed up against his, feet locked under his leg, the coarse hair tickled me. I was full. He was thick and wide. I loved how heavy it was in my hand. I squeezed around him, loving the feel of him inside me.

We were joined together for a long time and after we found completion, we just laid there in comfortable silence. I couldn't move and neither could he. I'd never left like this with any men. Yes there's been many on this bed but they had rules. I'm sure he was no saint either but none one has ever slept over.

Hell, I never slept over here anyways. Usually, the cleaning lady would be roaming from room to room, taking the sheets away, cleaning everything in here. I usually showered, the minute they left but with him, my internal thighs were coated with our fluids and I wasn't in any hurry to getting him off or his mark.

The way he looked at me, the way he followed me up the stairs like a starving man with his mouth open gave me so much pleasure that it made me lightheaded. Usually, men came here to get serviced. So when he dominated me, I was taken wanton under his scorching touch. I was even more surprised that I liked it, craved for it even. I felt treasured in some way.

"Can I take you out to breakfast?" He asked, so sweetly while tucking last night shirt into his pants.

"I have to go home." I put on a new dress. These rooms were allocated to particular girls and this room was mine. I chose a light beige lose romper. The pretty rouffels made it looked like a skirt and the thin strap lowered its V line to the middle of my chest, exposing the similar colour strappy bra that created an ex. Opting for brown knee high lace strappy hells, I brushed my slightly wet and wavy hair to one side.

"Can I take you home?" He asked.

"Fine." I smiled. I didn't know why I was saying yes. I didn't know what the fuck was wrong with me but when I looked at him, I just wanted more of him.

"Can I take for some food before I drop you off?"

That made me laugh.

"That's against the rules." I looked at him sadly, my back against the brown door to my closet. My face was fresh, just moisturiser and lip balm.

"You're not a fucking rule to me." He was mad. His face transformed into something of a vicious lion. I wasn't scared. It actually turned me on. A shiver ran through me, surging with blooming arousal.

I shrugged. "It is what it is. I am who I am and I am not ashamed of it."

"Neither am I." He looked at me dead in the eyes.

"Then stop looking at me like that." I rolled my eyes to which he smirked. We were strangers but it felt like we've known each other for years. I felt empty without him. My pussy pulsed thinking of what had been in there for the whole night.

"I want to take you out. This was... this wasn't..."

"I know."

I didn't tell him to go to Miss Caroline to pay before entering my room. As it was the Rule. I didn't tell him to leave after we had sex. As it was the Rule. We broke so many rules yesterday, I couldn't even imagine what Miss Caroline would say.

There was a knock on the door, I told them to enter. It was Claudia, the cleaning lady. I greeted her and picked up my Birkin bag from the coffee table. Taking his elbow, I guided him out. The yellow Spanish type house reminded me of Havana. It vines that wove it's way inside, open hall ways. I watched the soft sun rays stream down from the open window at the end of the hall way.

"I'm still taking you home?" His hand was now on the small of my back. I felt giddy with butterflies. This wasn't like anything I'd ever felt before.

"Maybe!"

Suddenly, we heard clicks of heels behind us. Turning, we found Miss Caroline walking towards until she was far enough away to call without raising her sultry voice.

"May I have a word with you Mr. Catalan." She was wearing a summer dress. I don't think I've ever seen her in anything that resembles pants. I don't think she even owns them.

"Wait for me." Santiago Catalan ordered before leaving to greet my boss. "Let's get this over with." They both start walking towards Miss Caroline's office.

I sagged in disappointment. The little fantasy was over. He was going to fay for sleeping with me light night and I didn't want to wait for him. This is my job but for the first time, it actually ached a little.

As I drove home, I thought about the life I longed for that was not mine. I longed for small house by the beach, where air tasted salty and the water was as blue as the sky. I longed for peace and serenity, just in a small, quiet nook of the world. A place to call home. I wanted to wake up the sounds of the birds chirping, the music of the ocean crashing against its golden shore. I just wanted to sit and hear the leaves wrestle with each other.

The sun, peaking through tall palm trees, may grace the cold floor of kitchen while I cook I the afternoon. I would watch the dust fly in the rays of its golden might. Maybe an old tune would be playing on the vinyl and I'd sway to the music. Maybe I'll have a dog that would run on the beach, sit with me to watch the glorious sun set every evening from the porch of our little house.

The vivid colours of the sky would paint my house with oranges, reds, yellows and pink. I'd feel the soft heat kiss my skin. The breeze would play with my loose dress. I longed for serenity. A gentle touch of the sun, a soft whisper of the wind.

I'd live among no one. Speak to no one. That would be my life. I'd be happy.

Now, that fantasy involved Tiago too. I would have loved for him to be there, enjoying the peace with me. I wondered if he'd understand or was he one of those lucky ones.

Sometimes, people got lucky. Either they were born into unimaginable environment, uninhabited even, or they were born to luxury. I was the former but I made it out. Yes, I became an escort but I had no other fucking choice.

The life I was living was filled with my dead parent's debt that I couldn't pay off anymore. Then I met a girl who worked for Miss Caroline at my dorm, she introduced me to her and the rest was history. Now, I didn't even blink when I'd purchase $1000 of make up or shoes. It didn't put a dent in my bank account but 6 years ago, I wouldn't even buy lunch just so I could give that savings to the debt collectors.

I pulled into the drive way of my house. It was in a suburban cul de sac. Parking my car into the garage, I wanted into my kitchen through the garage door, breathing in the fresh air that flew in from the sea not so far away from where I was. Sometimes, I rented out an ocean view apartment by the beach in Malibu. Sometimes, the men I was on a "date" with would do that for me. It was all hush hush and scandalizing but as long I got paid. I didn't care.

The different between an escort service and a hooker was that we were paid in thousands and our clients were shot callers of the society. Politicians, businessmen, foreign dignitaries and we sold them fantasies.

But last night, that was far from any fantasy I'd ever experience. It was so real and raw, I couldn't believe I let him do that. I could have said no, could have told him to go follow the rules. Which meant signing into one of the tablets that are given to all the guests, go through our files, pick me, pay and then enter my room.

When I saw him, he looked at me as if I was the only one who existed. I've had men look at me in many ways but the heat that licked up my inner thighs when he was watching me was scorching. I couldn't look away. It was as if there were something much bigger than us were colluding to introduce us.

We were in a trance. A type of electric charge that surrounded us, blocking out the whole world. He captivated me, every molecule in my body was reaching out to him. Like there were greater powers at play here, a divine plan for him and I to meet. He didn't know my name and yet it didn't stop him from touching my body.

I passed my elegant living room that was saturated with all mate colours with golden shiny accents throughout. The mauves, beiges, soft brown and coral pinks accentuated the shine of the golden flecks that were spread throughout the room.

This was my sanctuary.

Everything I owned in this beautiful house was bought by my own money. Yes, many billionaires had offered to buy me lavish condos down town but I loved this normal life I got to live out during the day. I didn't have many pictures of my family. They didn't have a camera and back in the day, phones with cameras weren't invented yet. The only good photo I had was of my high school graduation with my family.

That was over a fake fire place. Who needed a fire place in L.A. I loved keeping my windows open, that's why I opted for a high security gated community.

Sometimes, I wondered how my parents would react to the beautiful French style home. White outer walls, grey slopes, 3 en suite bedrooms, a white and gold marbled kitchen that opened up to a large garden with a pool.

Entering my bathroom, I looked around the glowing sunlight that struck the grey, white and golden marble. I couldn't help but compare how big it was compared to the room I grew up in. The house in L.A. was the size of my bedroom and my bathroom in this house. My parents and me and my little brother lived lavish live back in Cuba but his honest business ways were getting trumped by people who killed, threatened and stole.

My father's business was illegally taken over, the gang beat him out of his store and soon it became too hard to keep paying the people who worked for us, money for food ran short. We managed to hire a lawyer and move to America legally but legality didn't mean shit when my parents couldn't get a job.

Their lack of English didn't help. They ended up working in the farms, day in and day out, seven days a week. The house responsibility fell on me. The house that was too small for four people compared to the Spanish manor I grew up in as a child.

Sitting on my bed, I pulled out the photo album from my dresser and sat on the bed. It was lined with cotton with pretty floral details. My walk in closet was to the right. One of the other bedroom was also my closet including a vanity and a shelf full of makeup. The other bedroom was just for shoes and handbags.

The images in the album were old high contrast pictures of my family in Havana. We looked so happy. I don't think ever saw them smile when we moved to USA. They would come home, shower, eat the food I made and pull out the sofa bed and go to sleep.

With a deep sigh, I closed the album and put it back in the drawer. Changing into silky shorts and a lacy top, I did my usual facial routine before drawing the black curtains, plunging the day into pitch black in my room.

Instead of thinking about what my dead parents and innocent little brother missed out on, I watched some you tube videos, wishing that was me but my life style forced me to keep a low profile. Privacy was our clients' utmost priority.

Suddenly an idea popped into my head. I typed Santaigo's name in google. The contents that came up shocked me but even he was rich, he had to be to get into mansion, there were no recent content about him.

Everything that came up were about the obliteration of the Catalan family. No survivors. Yet he was alive. A Catalan. Maybe he was a distant family member? Or someone who survived but people didn't know about. What I didn't understand was if he was in hiding, why was he using that name?

As I scrolled through the results, I found an article that mentioned his marriage to a woman named Gina Vernoff.

My heart sank. Of course he was married. Most of the men who comes to The Mansion are married. Rolling my eyes, I left the laptop on the little sofa at the foot of the bed, I drifted off to sleep, thinking about the man called Santiago Catalan and the mystery behind him.

I usually took an hour or two getting ready in the evening before heading off to The Mansion. However, Miss Caroline asked me to come in around 4 and told me not to over dress because I won't be there for the night.

It was my date with David. He was my first and longest client. He was kind to me, helped me with money management when I asked him after I started making enough. We honestly had a good friendship and I didn't mind spending time with him. Sex with him was fun. Sometimes, we'd visit exhibition clubs, sometimes we'd invite others to join us. I had no issues with that. The only hard line for me was masochism, over two men, me with another woman but I didn't mind watching. I found it erotic but didn't feel comfortable with everything, especially men with weird fetish.

The best thing about working for Miss Caroline was I was allowed to say no. My speciality was girlfriend experience. Accompanying men to foreign land, spend time in lavish places and pretend to be someone else for a week or so and listen to them talk. Sometimes, it was funny how much men in power had so much to complain about.

Honestly, it was pathetic but fucking them paid for my Birkins, Channels, my Audi Q7, my mortgage and many other expenses. I wore the same simple dress from this morning and when I entered Miss Caroline's office that was heavy with brown, maroon, black with blood red accents. Her deep brown walls were covered with custom made shelves which were lined with books from eroticism to psychology and business studies. Fiction to biographies and even some national geographic magazines.

"My dear, come in. Some tea?" She rose from her dark wooden desk on the other side of the room, joined me on the little sofa set by the door. Her coffee table always a beautiful tea set.

"No, thank you. I thought I had a date with David." That's what we called them. Fucking was a date. Well, with David, there was always a date.

"No sweetheart, someone else has requested a girlfriend package." She tilted her head, trying to read my reactions.

"Mr. Catalan?" For some reason, I wasn't surprised by that.

"Yes. He was adamant about it. Specially after he learned that the man who brought him here, is the one going on a date with you."

That, I didn't know. I was unware of the fact that Santiago knew David. I felt slightly sick about the entanglement but then I remembered that I had nothing to worry about. I could just say no to both and be done with it. I had Miss Caroline to support me.

I didn't want to say No to Santiago. I wanted more of him. My thighs clenched, missing his thick member inside of me. She was watching me, reading every micro movement of my body and face.

"How much did he pay for a week of my service?" It irked to think of him as a client.

"He paid a million."

Shocked, my eyes widened like saucers.

"FOR A WEEK?" That was insane.

"No, for the foreseeable future. Will you accept his offer? I will have to redirect Mr. David to Savannah." She picked up the tablet and started tapping on it. Savannah was a woman who'd been with David when I was away.

"So, he's coming tonight? I don't understand?" I was genuinely confused because Miss Caroline informed that I had no work tonight.

"No, he told me to give you this."

She handed me a beautiful gold, silver and black Gala invitation card. Vanderbilt Auction at Grand Plaza Hotel. The card was pure elegance and I loved everything that were high quality. I guess it was years of inexpensive necessities forced an urge for finer things in life.

"This looks lovely. Will you be going?" I noticed the same black envelop with a gold seal on, stamped with Vanderbilt code of arms.

"Yes I will be." She smiled. The date was of this weekend and therefore, I had a whole week of nothing to do. I smiled wide. I loved doing nothing but lounging around my home and enjoy the small pleasures in life.

"I'll go do some shopping tomorrow I guess." Getting up, I twisted the handle, ready to leave.

"He's married, you know?" She called out, standing herself.

A tainted smile curved up on my lips. "Aren't they all?"

I didn't care if the men were married. They come to us, we don't go to them. I held to alliance with those women for my profession was "disgusting" to them. We were the pariah of the society but they didn't know who we were.

I didn't care about the wife. All I cared that he was in me again.