From the moment she laid eyes upon him, Marley knew in her heart that James was not just another client, and the difference wasn’t even the large sum of money he offered in return for a single night of submission. No, what set him apart was the fact that when she called James “daddy”, it was her own heart which beat faster and her own body which ached with need.
After that night, Marley does her best to put all thought of him behind her, using the huge payday he provided to get on her feet again and start over… until James knocks on her door and walks right back into her life. He makes her a simple offer: if she will live with him and submit to him whenever he wishes, he will provide for her every desire.
Even before she accepts his offer, Marley knows that what she truly wants is not money or clothing or even a fancy new car. What she longs for is a daddy who will give his little girl what she really needs… a daddy who will spank when she is naughty, tie her up and take her any way he pleases, and then cuddle her until she falls asleep in his arms. Can she dare to hope that James will be that daddy?
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Sitting on the barstool, Marley crossed her fingers and legs for luck. She tried, but couldn’t quite get her toes to cross in high-heeled shoes. Dear God, please let this be the right place for a score.
In a flirtatious gesture, she tossed her jet-black hair over her shoulder and glanced around the swanky hotel bar for prospects.
The other patrons were lost in conversation. No loners. No potential johns. Marley sighed deeply. With only enough money for one cocktail, she realized her time was limited. She couldn’t nurse the same drink all night.
“What the hell,” she thought and took a slug of her mojito.
She was about to ask the bartender if he knew where she could find some action when a nervous-looking gentleman carrying a briefcase walked into the lounge. He scanned the room like someone who had just realized he lost his wallet and was returning to the place where he hoped to God he’d find it.
Marley looked at him with interest. This guy had potential. The man glanced up, meeting her gaze. Relief washed over his face, and he stalked straight toward her.
“Um, may I help you?” Marley asked.
“Oh, I hope so. May I sit down?” He indicated the bar stool next to hers.
Upon further inspection he didn’t look like her usual clients—businessmen far from home—but you never knew and she was desperate not to have to spend the night in the shelter again tonight. “Suit yourself.” She shrugged.
He sat down heavily, mopping his brow with a napkin from a stack atop the bar. His head was shiny, bald as a cue ball, and he wore glasses with thick, black frames. Nerdy. Harmless.
Marley waited.
Finally, he stage-whispered, “Please don’t throw a drink on me or anything, but you wouldn’t happen to be a working girl, would you?”
