The whore's introduction: If you are joining me for the first time read on otherwise pick up at the date.

I am London Brown, alter ego of Desniah Williams, a twenty-six-year-old, affluent, educated, black woman employed by The Agency.

The Agency provides pricy escorts for London's elite. It's a sophisticated operation in the oldest profession. Clients peruse a catalogue to choose a service provider.

I'm contacted via a white envelope slipped under my door. Since I became a service provider, not once have I seen an envelope delivery. I have a theory about why, but honestly, it sounds absolutely ridiculous, so I refuse to elaborate.

These are the confessions of a whore. My confessions.

 

January 13

I slammed the door to Rhys' vehicle and glanced over my shoulder. Our eyes locked. He knew Des was gone. The way Rhys stared at me made me uneasy. As though I could see the darkness inside him drawn to me-craving to Master me, I didn't want nor need someone to control me. His eyes narrowed and his mouth formed a straight line.

Don't be such a drag, lover boy. You had your fun. Now it is time for mine. The corner of my mouth curled upward as I swayed my hips.

I put my back to him and walked toward the building. Run along. I dug in my purse, removed my cell. Nine voice mail messages and ten texts. At least Des had had the decency to contact my employer to let them know I wouldn't be available. Open for business, I texted the Agency to let them know I was back on the roster starting now, then shoved the cell in my purse.

My neck had bruises from the way Rhys grabbed Des during sex. The marks thrilled her. Admittedly, if another man had manhandled me the way Rhys did with her, I'd be so hot for him I'd fall at his feet. Not literally, of course. However, Rhys threatened my existence and I didn't take that lightly. Nor could I see him has anything but a hunter, and us as his prey. Not in the way my clients needed me but in a darker, more unnatural way.

I strolled past the doorman, entered the elevator and headed up.

Not so long ago, these had been my confessions, but more and more I felt Des growing stronger. I'd been the one to decide to tell our story to the world and they could either take part or I would portray them as I saw them. Now I was being pushed aside as Des tried to find a new Master. Well, I was here first; Rhys came later. And I had no intension of going without a fight this time whether I'd outlived my usefulness to Des or not.

Des's relationship with Rhys was turning into a Bonnie and Clyde's whirlwind. She just didn't know it yet. How could a relationship with a man that saw women as objects and wanted them only as slaves end any way but bad. Men were our pawns, not the other way around. Any play we allowed was for our benefit, not theirs. She had lied to law enforcement to protect Rhys. A man that had beat someone near to death with his bare hands. Why else would he have no alibi for his whereabouts?

Sure, he was careful with her now, but what did she think he'd do to her if she crossed him? Already he'd tossed her into a wall to try to make her understand how dangerous he was. I got it loud and clear.