𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

what most clients craved and therefore loved about the votive was the lack of strings. the promise of sex as a monetary transaction instead of an emotional one, the guarantee that once it was done, there would be no soft pleas to stay and cuddle, no needy texts and calls the next day, no attachment. but matilda, lucien knew, was a girl who likely wanted all of that — she was an excellent escort, of course, and nothing sort of professional; but she craved affection. and while that wasn’t always a given with clients, she could always find it with lucien.

“always so good for me,” he murmurs, handing her the key while leaving kisses down the elegant curve of her neck, which started soft and slowly grew in passion as the girl worked on opening the door. she was one of his favourites, a tiny fairy of a thing, and lucien always had a soft spot for the very few escorts he personally screened. once inside, he spins her around and kisses her properly, a hand on her lower back firmly pressuring her in towards his own body. “what do you want to do tonight, my love?” lucien finally murmurs once he’s reluctantly pulled away, his phone out so he can text ronan the request for matilda’s last booking of the night to be covered. he pockets the device, and his hand finds her cheek instead; stroking affectionately. “i want tonight to be all about you.”

     She finds it so easy to go for a kiss; Lucien’s mouth is warm and inviting and Tilly loves every inch of it. She parts her lips as she drinks from his, lapping at the inside of his mouth, stealing every taste of him for her very own. Tilly, she knows, is terrible with boundaries. But she’s addicted to Lucien, to this, and he protects her with his attention and his lavishing of attention.

     She’d known he was special from the first moment she’d fucked him.

     When Lucien pulls away, Tilly whines out a small protest, but he’s in charge. He always has been. And then, he offers her the chance of a lifetime: a choice. Tilly’s life is always about others, and making sure the whims and pleasures of her clients are met, but very few actually care to cater to her needs. Oh, they’ll pant for a while, tell her they want to please her, but what they really meant was that they wanted her to ask for things that she knew they wanted and pretend like she’d wanted those things in the first place.

“ARE you sure?” ty asked as she started to slip her shoes off, “i really appreciate this, i owe you one. this saves me so much time.” she took the shoes from tilly, handing her own over. “we’ll definitely meet up. and if i definitely want to make this up to you in anyway i can.” 

     “It’s seriously no problem.” Tilly had already removed her shoes completely, and handed them off. Sliding on the other woman’s heels, Matilda took a few moments of a wobbly silence to catch her balance. “Just like... buy me a coffee or something and we’ll be even. I probably won’t go to bed until late, so feel free to stop by. Room 291.”

“I’M so sorry, i’m a klutz.” she pouted, looking down at her shoes, she slipped them off and groaned. “i’m gonna need to go back and change my outfit now,” ty opened her purse, “at least i got some time before,” she smiled at tilly, “kitten heels would’ve been smarter, or heels not from the 50s. i just love vintage things.”

     Tilly knelt, unhooking the straps on her own wedge heels. “Let’s switch,” she offered, without really giving much room for argument. “It looks like we have about the same size. I wear a 7, normally, but these are 7 and a half. You can get through your day, and we’ll meet up later. All I’m doing right now is going back to my room.”

asher’s a little surprised by the kindness — not at all in a bad way — after all, tilly knows what he’s like ( literally just witnessed the worst of it live in person only minutes ago ) and yet here she is, helping him find a replacement booking, adjusting his clothes for him, being all too lovely for asher’s expectations. “fingers crossed,” he murmurs after a nod in thanks, making his way over. it’s a routine he’s done a hundred times before; strutting in front of the client, sliding into the seat beside him, a sweet smile and a wandering hand down the inside of his thigh usually enough to seal the deal. “why simply watch when you could live it?” he purrs at the frazzled client. this one’s a vip member though, a younger man who’s already had his one booking for the week, and he looks tempted and unsure simultaneously of whether to fork out so much for a guest pass to book asher. these ones are always the tougher cases, and ash chances a glance back at tilly, thinking he might need a second salesperson for this particular transaction.

     It’s not that Asher looks like he’s crashing and burning; it just looks like he’s up the creek without a paddle. Luckily, Tilly can swim. She sees his look, mind racing at the information she got while eavesdropping, and she goes to him quickly. The man, she can assume, is looking for some male company for the night, so Tilly isn’t afraid that she can be accused of poaching; besides, Tilly isn’t built that way. On the streets, poaching was kind of the way of life, but it carried with it ramifications (like getting your ass beat and being out of commission for some time). So... Tilly approaches. Sidles up next to the man, sits down on the man’s other side. Hey, look, we’ve got you surrounded. “Ash,” Tilly starts, expression warm, “is the best we’ve got here. Seriously... if you haven’t booked Asher, you absolutely must. The problem is... he’s always so booked out, so heavily requested, and most people who hear about it and want to spend the night with him... they can’t because he’s, uh... tied up somewhere. Come on.” Tilly rises, extending her hand to the man. “Come on. I’ll help you get the guest pass.” The man is still reluctant, but it’s too late now, because Tilly is guiding him up and out of the blue room, asking, “What’s your room number, honey? Ash will wait for you by the door.” She glances over her shoulder at Asher, eyebrows lifting in a that was a hint. She mouths, “See you later, have fun...” as she leads the man out.

“let’s hit the blue room. people at cloud 9 will probably be eating around this time.” asher’s already fixing his hair, mirror out to make sure there’s nothing out of place that’ll discredit him in the eyes of any potential client. he’s never gone wrong in the blue room — it was always full of men and women eager to blow money. he pushes the corners of his denim jacket open a little further to make sure the pastel pink crop-top underneath is on show; and his eyes meet tilly’s as they inspect the room. “see any potential takers?”

     He mentions the Blue Room, and Tilly thinks about what a good idea it is. Everyone there is hopped up on living and breathing porn in front of them, the actors who connect with them with eye contact while they have their way with each other. It’s often there that patrons want that. They want something real and hot and they’re prime. Tilly follows him and, when he adjusts his denim jacket, she reaches it. Tugs up his crop top just a bit more, tugging it down in back. His body is perfect, and he need to show it off. Tilly’s eyes graze the room, once done, finally settling on a man in the corner. His hand is over his crotch, his eyes are glazed, watching a man behind the glass with another man’s cock in his mouth. “I’d say he’s a safe bet,” Tilly says, nodding towards the patron. “Go give it a try. I’ll step in if needed.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Society. I suppose you’re right.” He said with a slow nod of his head. He watched her make her way to get him an ice pack, smile still playing on his lips in intrigue. She was an interesting one, and something seemed to tug at his insides, a sort of magnetic pull that made him want to know more about her. When she came back, his eyes were so unabashedly on her, though fluttering shut as she pressed the ice against him. 

“Do you enjoy being spanked?” He asked, though there was no suggestion in his tone, but a genuine curiosity for the answer. He wasn’t one to enjoy delivering punishment. He found there were different ways to do that, more pleasurable ways to discipline, but to each his own. He supposes perhaps it was the aftermath he didn’t enjoy, seeing the bruises bloom purple and pink on smooth flesh. After another moment, his brow cocked in intrigue. 

“Now that I can relate to. I was in the system till I was about five. All of my other siblings were foster children too till my parents adopted all of us.” He said with a grin before shaking his head. “No, it’s… it’s fine.” He said, hand unconsciously moving to grasp at her wrist gently. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way.” 

     When Tilly returned with the ice pack, pressing it against the side of Matthew’s face, she canted her head. His eyes closed. Pain? She knew it had to smart; she’d definitely been on the receiving end. His question tugged a soft sigh, caught somewhere between amusement and fear of judgment, though... he was here to get laid and spend thousands, she presumed, so who was he to judge? Projecting, Tilly told herself. You’re just projecting.

     “Yes,” she finally answered, voice soft, as though somehow it would help to calm the fire in his spidering bruise. “I enjoy a lot of things. I enjoy whatever people want to do with me. That’s what I’m here for. Sure, I like certain things more than others, but that’s anyone. Anything. Any job. And I’m glad I get to work somewhere like this, where I can just... try it all.”

     So he’d been in the system, too. There was a strange kind of bond that came with it, something that drew people together with a rough abandon, as though that could make anything better. “I went in when I was young,” she commented, breath catching briefly at the feel of his fingers winding around her wrist. Tilly liked that. “I aged out,” she finally said, resuming, though her voice was a mere whisper. “At eighteen, they don’t keep you anymore. You have to figure it out by yourself.”

     Tilly’s other hand came up to cup the other side of Matthew’s face, delicate. Gentle. “I’m Tilly.”

tobias is into it, he likes when his partner takes some of the initiative and doesn’t wait for his lead all the time, it’s a happy medium he really does enjoy. all of it was an escape, an escape from dealing with the world outside of votive. he exhales,  watches with parted lips of his own as hers spread the divide take his thumb into her mouth.  the noise he makes is involuntary following up with a smile as he retracts his thumb completely from her face.

he needed to show restraint, he wanted to take his time tonight because if they kept that up, the question of restraints would mean nothing and it wouldn’t be drawn out like he wants it to be.  his erection throbs already within his pants and evidently by the way her eyes seem to widen,   doe-eyed,  his weakness when it came to the babydolls, to any of the escorts for that matter, anyone expressing those eyes towards him, an instant weakness. she likes restraints and it instantly makes the night better, keeping with his plan in mind.

taking her hand, lacing their fingers together he leads her into his bedroom,  “stand here,” he situates her in the center of his bedroom, “and don’t move,” he disappears behind her into the closet, coming back and depositing things on the bed behind her.  he comes to stand behind her calloused digits thread through her hair, a kiss to the shell of her ear,  “I want you to strip for me, but stay facing that way.” he doesn’t really want to disrupt her if she’s fallen into her subspace or anything focus she falls into, so no more questions, deciding against a blindfold, her closed eyes would work just fine.

     Tilly has an effect on him, that much is clear, and she likes it. She likes that he makes a noise when she sucks his thumb into her mouth, tongue darting over the pad, lips closing in something of a kiss. She likes that his breath leaves his lips in a small, eased breath. She likes that he’s clearly into her, and she wonders if she could be safe here. She can escape her world, and she can forget for a little while that things weren’t always so copacetic.

     She doesn’t know what he has planned, but she’s ready for it; Tilly realizes that she could easily become addicted to the look in his eyes. She squeezes his fingers as he leads her to his bedroom, easily obeying, wanting to obey, eyes wide with hope and arousal, ready for him, however, whenever he wanted to take her.

     But Tilly waits where she’s directed. He says not to move, and even her breath slows, eyes staring straight ahead. It used to be that obeying directions felt wrong, and Tilly needed to fight back against every one of them. But it was the strength and firm hand of all of them men since that proved to her that self-discipline (and a little discipline from others, when needed), was truly a freeing thing. His fingers in her hair, his lips against her ear, and she’s a puddle of weakness, knees threatening to cave, arousal pooling in the pit of her stomach.

tilly: Hi, you.

tilly: I miss you. It's been too long.

tilly: All the things you did to me. I need it again.

“Right, which is why the bottles for me and the ice cream is for you,” he pointed out with a cheeky grin. His usually pale skin a rosy color from the sips…well…more like gulps of alcohol. “Oi, nuh uh, I forbid underage drinking,” he joked lightly. “Mmm bottle and two spoons. Lets be heathens tonight, yea? I’ve got the rest of the night off and tomorrow free as well so this old man can have a hangover all day,” he smiled. “Quite bloody looking forward to it too,” he stated gruffly before taking a seat on her couch relaxing back. God if felt good to sit down. A slight yawn escaped his lips as he set the carton of ice cream and bottle of bourbon down on the coffee table. Rubbing his face slightly he winced at the pain of his broken pinky. “Good to see you in better spirits, love,” he offered. “I figured out which twat tried that shit with you, I’ve got him banned,” he reached forward taking another swig. “What movie?”

     Tilly wondered, briefly, how full the bottle had been before Freddie made it up here. (She also wondered if he was serious about the underage drinking. Either way, she was glad to have some kind of structure with him here.) When he sat, Tilly took a place beside of him, easily relinquishing the bottle in exchange for the carton. She pried it open and started in immediately, shamelessly, flipping the spoon so she could lap the frozen treat from it. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” she warned, teasing. “We still have a movie marathon to get through.” At his next statement, Tilly’s eyes grew wide. Horrified. “You did what? No! No, it was just... he was clumsy. Like... bad at what he did.” Oh shit. Well, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Bad sex, and now someone was banned. God, what an idiot. Tilly reached forward to hold up a DVD: The Princess Bride. Perhaps not the most illustrious of films, but something to feel good anyway. Her expression still read slack shock, though... she supposed there was something inherently good about Freddie’s hair trigger. “I mean... I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m appreciative. Thank you.” And actually... the more Tilly thought about it, the more she could rationalize it. It was a good thing. And soon, one additional spoonful of ice cream consumed, she felt nothing but gratitude. “No one’s ever really... protected me like that before.”

“Words in general suck balls sometimes, but what can you do, the world is built on ‘em, flimsy fuckers as they are.” Matthew said with a grin before tossing the crossword to the side to give his full attention to the woman before him. She was stunning, Matthew had to admit, but there was something about her that intrigued him. Something oddly familiar. 

“I look like I got beat up because that’s pretty much what happened. You should definitely see the other guy though.” He said with a charming smile, wincing only slightly at the pain in his cheek. He waved a flippant hand at her offer before tapping the bruise lightly. “It’ll go away in a few days, it’s no worry. An ice pack would be appreciated though.” He said, only to furrow his brows at the sudden realization. 

“What were you doing, getting all bruised up to begin with?”

     The world is built on them. He had Tilly’s full attention now. He waxed poetic, but was somehow still gentle and sweet. And then, in the same breath, profane. Tilly sidled up to him, ghosting her thumb along the spidering bruise. “I don’t know if I’d say the world,” she murmured, hardly to be contrarian. “But definitely society. Though somehow... I don’t think words were very helpful for you here.”

     Tilly gave a nod at his request for an ice pack, directing him, “Stay here.” The girl scampered to the nearest bar, procuring a plastic bag with some ice stuffed in, returning to press it gently against his skin. “It’s going to sting, just... it’s going to be okay. I bruise like a peach.” The explanation, at first, came without further explanation. That was remedied, however, when she added, “Sometimes, I bruise when I get spanked. Though once, when I was still in foster care, I broke my foster brother’s nose. He got in a good swing, too, but I aged out of the home pretty quickly after that.”

     She released the bag so he could hold it, lips pressed together in something of a sympathetic pout. “Does it hurt?”

     I like that smell when you’ve just woken up next to someone for the first time and you roll over, and they’re still there and warm and safe. So it’s a scent that kind of... varies, but always kind of has the same... mood set.

     Does it have to be someone new? If not... in no particular order:

1. Matthew | @matthewmxxre2. Noah | @noahhollo3. Freddie | @smoothxoldfashioned4. Julian | @ofjulian5. Connor | @ccnnerw

You know where to find me...

Anything asked on this day will be answered with complete honesty.