Free Deanna Madden #1 The Girl in 6E by A.R. Torre Page A

seen a penis.
    I agree with him on part of this. Some of the clients, especially the ones who are underendowed, seem to want inexperience—to be “wowed” by everything they say. Some want me to be hesitant, unsure, to give them resistance at first. But differentiating among the motivations is a tricky minefield and one I hate entering.
    I crawl up on the bed and sit, cross-legged, smiling at the black camera eye. “Is this okay? I don’t have one with ruffles.” I pull my hair into a low ponytail and chew on my bottom lip.
    RalphMA35: looks great bb. can we roleplay?
    I lean back, resting my weight on my hands, stretching my T-shirt tight against my chest. “Sure, Ralph. But I don’t have a lot of experience, so please be patient with me.” I tilt my head to the side.
    RalphMA35: okay bb. whats ur name
    “What do you want it to be?”
    RalphMA35: annie

CHAPTER 22
JEREMY
    JEREMY BRYANT KNOCKS on the door, holds up the box, and waits for the cursory response. It always takes a minute to come, a minute in which his palms sweat, and he wonders. He wonders if this is the day that the knob will turn and he will be face-to-face with her. Today isn’t that day.
    “Leave it. Thank you.”
    Always polite. Always brief. Always that beautiful, lilting voice that seems to hold so much distance in it. He signs the electronic pad, waves to the silent peephole, and walks the long hall to the elevator.
    Waiting for her to open the door had never worked. He is going to try something different today.
    He presses the elevator button, steps inside, presses the 1 button, then quickly steps off and allows the doors to close. He flattens against the walls, hidden from view, and waits, his eyes glued to the box in front of the door to apartment 6E.
    The minute the elevator car leaves, making its empty descent, there is the click of a door opening. He tenses. The door opens, a silent movement, then a pale arm and a dark head reach out, grab the package, and pull it inside. There is another click, and the door is closed. He leans back against the wall quietly, thinking.
    Brunette. Pale. It is more than he knew yesterday. He hears the elevator’s exhausted ascent, and then it is opening, a black man in workout clothes getting off. He nods to the man, steps into the car, and lets it carry him back downstairs. Waiting for the car to reach the ground floor, he wonders, as he always does, why she hides. Because hiding most certainly seems to be why she keeps inside. Hiding from whom? Or what? Hiding from something, that was for damn sure.

CHAPTER 23
    I LEAN AGAINST the front door and eat teriyaki chicken, which came with rice and some steamed-to-death green stuff they called vegetables. I used to have cable, but three months into the service something broke and the screen would display only an error message. I called the company, which walked me through four different troubleshooting solutions (none of which worked) before they came to the conclusion that I would need a service call. No, thank you. I told them to disconnect the service. Television took time away from camming anyway. As far as Internet goes, Mike logged into my system remotely and set it up so I could steal Internet from my three closest neighbors. I normally use the Internet from “Team Bradley,” which is the apartment to the right of me: it has the fastest connection. But in the rare instances it is offline, disconnected, or running slowly, I use one of the other two wireless networks available, courtesy of my favorite horny hacker.
    With no cable, my biggest form of entertainment is eavesdropping on my neighbors. I lean back, listening to dead silence on the other side of the metal door. Surely someone will be in the hall soon. I hope for the bodybuilder down the hall with the bleach-blonde girlfriend. They always have drama-filled conversations. There is a noise and then the slam of a door. I can tell by the sound that the door bounces a bit, not quite shutting, but the