A change

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Lacey

After our afternoon delight, Vincent and I relaxed in the living room. While we each read a book, I couldn't help but think of what he did today. It wasn't the fact Vincent ousted John Stanley from his companies that surprised me. It was the fact he took care of the employees. I was happy about that.

The first time I met John, he hired me for the night. Arriving at his hotel suite, I walked in. And he wanted to try BDSM. Knowing rule number one, I gave him what he paid for with me. When he finished with me, I felt relieved to go home. I hated BDSM. Some people enjoy it and understand the concept. I prefer not to give total control to someone over my body.

That was one time of many. Every time John hired me, it was to fulfill his kinky side so he could get off. I agreed until I grew tired of his narcissistic ways, declining him. He didn't take no for an answer and maltreated me, choking me out so he could get his satisfaction. I awoke to Joe and Rafe taking care of me.

I never knew what happened after I passed out. I remember waking up in my apartment with fingerprints on my neck. I haven't heard from John until that day Vincent and I had lunch.

"You seem deep in thought," I heard Vincent say, knocking me back to the present day.

"I remembered something that happened a long time ago," I smiled. I tried to hide my disgust at the terrible memory I had of John.

Vincent sat forward on the couch as he closed his book, placing it on the coffee table. "Would you like to discuss it?"

"It was something from my past days as an escort. It's nothing to feel concerned about," I mentioned, hoping Vincent would drop the matter.

Vincent looked at me as I waited for his response.

"Very well, but if you change your mind, I'm more than happy to listen," he offered as I nodded. That was the issue; I didn't want to discuss my clients or life as an escort. It's not a glamorous life. You make an obscene amount of money, but at what cost?

The next day, while Vincent has his meeting, I took his car and drove to town. He can be angry with me later. There was something I wanted to do. It had been long overdue, and I wanted to take care of it.

I arrived in town and pulled up in front of a beauty salon. I watched as women emerged, hair coiffed. Most of these women have husbands who hired me. How do I know? I saw them exhibiting their money or their husband's capital with their styles.

This entire town is riddled with rich people. They come here to show the world they aren't your typical rich snobs when, in fact, that was a lie. These people are the type that wants people to notice them, so they feel they are essential. If they only knew what their husbands and boyfriends did behind closed doors.

I walked into the salon as a woman looked me up and down, judging me.

"May I help you?" It filled her tone with disdain.

"I would like to have a new hairstyle, and my natural color restored," I told her as I stood there waiting on her response.

She gave me a look while pursing her lips as she moved her finger down an appointment book.

"I'm sorry. There doesn't seem to be an opening. Since you didn't bother to make an appointment, come back later. Except I'm sure it book us up," the woman explained in the snottiest tone ever.

"Try again. I'm sure I can afford whatever prices you have," I suggested. Another woman walked over and crossed her arms, giving me a look I knew all too well.

"You didn't hear what my partner explained. We cannot help you," she added in an abrupt tone.

I'm getting agitated by their attitudes.

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