Free Xcite Delights Book 1 by Various

itself? While I’m certainly smart enough that I could’ve earned a scholarship without too much trouble, I’ve always preferred to make my own plans and do things on my own terms. So I became a call girl.
    Not the kind you see in the tabloids and on the news from time to time, the beautiful, sculpted young things who’ve been caught in the bed of a political leader. No. I was the kind who was so good at what she did that no newspaper or TV crew ever got even an inkling that I was anywhere near the clients I worked for. Cultured, elegant, sexually acrobatic, and very, very good at staying out of sight.
    I don’t do that any more, because now that I’m a concierge I can make just as much money without nearly so much outlay on my reproductive health and personal grooming. I never have a hair out of place as a concierge, but I also don’t have to spend hundreds of dollars a month keeping my hair strictly confined to my head. I figured at 28 it was probably time to have at least a little bit of pubic hair for a change.
    And it isn’t as if I’ve left the life behind entirely. I still have just as many high-end maître ds and shady cocaine suppliers in my speed-dial as I ever did, only now I call them on behalf of hotel guests instead of clients, and my cut of the take is higher.
    I still have a lot of the same friends that I met in that old life as well, so from time to time my phone rings quietly in the pocket of my impeccable grey suit jacket, and I hear a variation of the call I received last week. Of course, matters don’t always turn out as they did on that occasion.
    ‘Cara, you absolutely cannot pass this up, I swear to God.’
    ‘Mm-hm?’ I asked noncommittally. I hadn’t spoken to Mitchell in a while, but I’d been turning down “once in a lifetime chances” ever since the day I quit the business. I couldn’t imagine anything that’d be different about this one.
    ‘An old buddy of mine is tour managing for Liam Lucifer and he needs a girl at the hotel tonight. He doesn’t want to ask the guest services desk there – too many bad experiences with people selling stories to the tabloids, you know how it is. So my buddy gets Liam to call me, because my buddy knows I can find a girl who’s good to keep her mouth shut. Nobody’s better at that than you, Cara. You’re cream of the crop.’
    ‘I’m not even part of the “crop” any more, Mitch,’ I retorted. ‘And Liam Lucifer’s the biggest rock star in the world right now. I’m sure he can get a hundred girls just as hot as me from the groupie pool for nothing.’
    ‘No can do. They’d blog the whole thing before they’d left the room. Liam values his privacy pretty highly. Highly enough to pay top dollar.’
    I want to make it absolutely clear before I go any further that I’ve never let my work life overlap with my home life. The second that happens is the second things start to get messy.
    Not complicated; I can handle complicated just fine. That’s practically in my job description. Messy, though, I don’t like. So it’s always been my policy to avoid clients I have any kind of emotion about. If I’ve slept with a candidate, I don’t vote in the election. Things like that.
    Liam Lucifer’s album had been in my car stereo ever since it came out. I knew the words to every song within the first week. The photo of Liam on the CD cover showed him with his lip curled in a sneer and a streak of red greasepaint down over his forehead and one eye, like a punk rock David Bowie. I wanted to knot my fingers in the thick, black curls of his hair and bite at the lush fullness of his lip.
    When I’d been an escort, those thoughts alone would have been more than enough reason for me to turn down Mitchell’s offer. But I wasn’t an escort any more, and there was nothing to stop me from dabbling in a little illicit fun with my favourite rock star, and making a mint while I was at it.
    ‘OK. But you owe me one, Mitch.’
    I still have some of my