I don’t think he is a man who wants to share his crown and she should pipe down before he puts her in her place publicly. Tall, slender, I would put her at five feet Seven or thereabouts and dressed well. Long waving hair tucked over one shoulder, and I can almost immediately tell this one has been a career Tom.
A girl who went into escorting for the money and the sex, like a hobbyist. She makes it her life’s goal to excel at it; she’s me but without the scars, which ultimately gives her an edge, she’s probably always controlled who, when and where and likes to get adventurous. I have met many Toms like her over the years. The ones who enjoy it, live for it and love the money it makes them. Nearly all of them came from stable childhoods and made this a career decision to satisfy a craving for expensive things and nymphomaniac tendencies.
It was a girl like this who taught me that embracing and enjoying sex takes away some of the power they have over you. Back when I tried to form a bond with anyone who could show me a little affection. Catania never wanted to be my friend, but she did feel sorry for me.
I was thirteen, immersed in a seedy and dirty world of control and pain, and she tried to give me pointers to help myself rather than intervene and help me escape. It wasn’t in her interest to get invested in some scrawny little kid crying out for someone to see her. She told me to learn from it, use it and embrace what it could do for me.
Men can be controlled by their desires and an accomplished seducer can lift herself above the rest. She helped me realise that I could control how much it damaged me, and that gave me the strength to survive and turn it all around. She saved my sanity without even knowing she did.
Looking at Joanne, I can see a born seductress who does just that, and she’s almost draped over Alexi like she owns him. I hate her already.
‘‘London … Joanne.’’ Alexi comes level as I plaster on the smile I greet our patrons with. Fake, oozing charm and yet inwardly wanting to stab the little wench a dozen times in the face with my shoe. I hate that he used that fucking pet name to introduce me to his new skank.
‘’Pleasured.’’ I smile smoothly as Alexi removes her from his side. She eyes me up and takes my outstretched hand to shake it loosely.
Cold hands, a sign of fear, a weak handshake and I can tell she’s just all act. Learning to read shit like this has always given me an edge. She is not all that the first impressions imply; there’s an awful lot of fakery and play-acting on her part and I double take her with closer scrutiny.
Up close she doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of smarts going on, it’s hard to explain but I can usually tell from a set of eyes at how bright someone is, and she has dumb bitch stamped all over her. Her designer dress that impressed at a distance is also fake. I know knockoffs when I see them and despite it being a good fake, it’s nevertheless a copy.
‘’So, you’re my back up.’’ She smiles sarcastically, and I raise a brow and laugh at her with complete amusement. Alexi raises a brow at my reaction, watching with that quick eye and calculating mind. I think he expected me to break like a weeping heartbroken little girl as he is so used to seeing me that way lately and it only makes me more determined to be the girl he first met when he walked into this club months ago.
‘‘I think you mean alternate, for nights I am too busy to take over and have better things to do.’’ I lift my chin and make a point of bringing my height up, even if she stands over me on equally high shoes. Alexi seems to be silently observing with that damned smirk in place and just clicks his fingers at a passing server for a drink.
Arsehole!
Enjoying the show as his two cats fight over their territory.