Thread: Hire Me {Father Figure & AnnaBeth Belle}

Twelve thousand dollars of Valentino ruined by Mr. Chase's casual strength, an expression of his contempt for Evie's performance. Still something had gotten through, had made him feel an emotion besides those which he allowed himself. In a tiny way Evie had broken Mr. Chase's control, made him dance a stuttered, almost imperceptible step to her tune and that alone made her worth every dollar he gave Hire Me. Even though she lay in the alley with the rest of the filth and cast off trash Evie had worth far beyond her disgraced dress. What other woman had ever been capable of making Mr. Chase crack, even a little bit? Like melting snow she'd seeped into the tiniest of openings then frozen, exerting a small but irresistible force against the brittle armor Mr. Chase wore and managed to spall off a bit of it. In time, if she had time, Evie knew that her talents, her rare and unusual ability, would allow her to worm completely beneath his shell and... And what? Evie wasn't sure, and that was unusual and far more upsetting than the bruise she felt forming on her ass or the shredded bit of pretty lace she'd heard tear when she fell. Doubt, crushing and as heavy as an avalanche, roared over Evie's soul and shattered her confidence, her poise. It was entirely her ability to match the emotions her clients demanded, but the knowledge of it and the experience of it were less twin tails of a single beast than entirely separate ones, each divorced from the reality and realization of the other. Every bit of her survival oriented mind demanded she cast if off and walk out of the alley, abandon the contract and be safe but Evie could never do that, not to Mr. Chase. For just as her ability to feel what he wanted made it better for him, the fact that she was up against someone she might not be able to beat, to win against sexually or emotionally, made Evie stay in a sick sense of competition and desire to prove herself worthy of Mr. Chase's time. Of his dark attentions. More lace tore and she felt something slice open the skin of her knee as she crawled towards the cab. Dirt and grit, rough and sticky, coated her hands and dress as the yards narrowed to feet, then inches and she was on the threshold of the door Mr. Chase held open for her, the very picture of a man of breeding and genteel manners. The wool of his trousers was soft and smooth against her cheek, her bare shoulders and the contrast of how it felt compared to the ground, the contrast of his position standing over Evie in her humiliation made her head roar with pulsing white noise. If she stood up, she'd be disobeying him crawl into the cab had been his order, so Evie crept into it like a dog loading itself into a car. Only when she felt her legs clear the threshold, hands on the vinyl mat coated floor of the cab, did Evie get up and sat down once again like a real person on the seat. A ribbon of scarlet made black by the light coursed from the cut in her knee and fell in almost silent patters onto the floor mats. Evie met the driver's worried eyes in the mirror and returned his look with a hard edged one above a smile. The dissonance of it made him look away, to not want to question what just happened or why a woman in a dress that cost more than he made in months crawled across an alley that smelled like the filth that now coated it sat so prettily in the back next to the man who'd made Evie debase herself. Evie looked over towards the open door Chase still held open. Coming, darling?