Erotic One Shots [editing]

On Your Knees

Mia's POV:

     The water is hot and soothing as it sprinkles onto my skin; its bountiful streams cascading onto my shoulders only to graze down my back in seconds.

After lathering my body in lavender soap and washing my hair a while, I stand beneath the diffusing shower-head in silence — letting the bubbly soap slip off my body as I calmly breathe in the light steam bristling in the spacious bathroom.

This is my first day here. And the moment I arrived, even knowing I was going to be staying in the east wing only, I took it upon myself and wandered at least half of the vast centre of the mansion — observing its darker walls that held deep shades of grey and black, high ceilings and sparkling grand chandeliers.

The dark marble of the floor is spotless enough to where you just may see your own reflection by looking down upon it.

I knew I had never stepped foot into a place like this, not even remotely close. But I signed the contract, this was part of it. And I needed the money.

When I was offered this job, I was hesitant. But with the promising, infallible look in the eyes of his assistant, I thought this could be something.

But even now, I still don't know if this is a good idea. But my little brother needs his heart transplant. He's my whole world. And it wasn't just the promise of two million dollars in two weeks, but the more prominent promise of my safety and protection here — amongst my brother's while I'm away.

Plus, it's not like the assistant that handed me the strict contract was lying about the titled position, or the man I'd be working for. I saw over the assistant's shoulder; the back of his tall, dark haired figure as he walked out of the club after the offer.

I guess he didn't care about my answer, but merely found out when his assistant chased after him once I eventually signed.

Therefore, I know my new 'boss' is real, I'm sure of that. I just haven't seen his face, yet.

And lastly, I don't know why out of all the strippers in the fuchsia flickering club last week, he chose me.

All I know is the task I now uphold: please him.

I'm a stripper. I dance, I sway my hips enticingly as the men in the crowd watch thoroughly; gawking at the sight of very little clothing on my skin. I know how to please. But never have I underwent strict business to practically seduce or do what is asked by the hands of a man.

The men at the club never touched me, I never let them.

This is different.

Antonio will touch me. And I, him.

Whatever is asked - putting on a little seductive show for him while I dance, sex, or just a simple conversation - I commit. Though I have my doubts regarding conversation, considering one vital rule.

Strictly, no attachments.

Yet for two weeks, I am strictly and solely his.