Contrasting Lives Read online

  Sienna mentally shook herself. This was ridiculous, she didn't want to think of Matt Pendleton as anything other than a client, and yet the attraction towards him was clearly there.

  She lowered her hands, kneading the skin along his ribcage and Matt groaned. “You're really good at this.”

  “Thank you. You should consider having a massage more regularly. It's an excellent stress reliever.”

  “Yeah, I probably should. Might loosen me up when my kids are driving me crazy.” Sienna saw his face flush and his body tightened beneath her fingers. “I'm a widower,” he added gruffly.

  He said 'widower' as though he loathed the word and Sienna got the idea he was extremely uncomfortable with the subject matter. “How old are your children?” Sienna paused, gazing up at him.

  His eyes registered surprise at her question, and Sienna thought he wasn't going to respond, but after a minute, he spoke. “Courtney is fifteen, going on twenty five. Harper is twelve, Brandon is nine, and Millie is six.”

  Sienna raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You've certainly got your hands full.” She returned to the massage, gently unknotting the muscles in Matt's other side. “Who cares for them when you're working?” Detectives worked notoriously long hours, it must be tough for him to be a single parent and keep up with his workload.

  Matt shrugged. “Sometimes my parents. Caroline's parents help too, and sometimes they go into before and after school care. I'm fortunate; I have a great group of friends who lend a hand when I need them.”

  “How are the kids coping with the loss of their Mom?” It was glaringly obvious Matt wasn't coping well, and Sienna wondered if his grief was creating an impact on his children.

  “They're doing okay.”

  His answer was defensive and Sienna returned to her work. Matt was clearly uncomfortable with this subject. Finishing the massage, Sienna straightened up and offered Matt a little smile. “Feel better?”

  “Yeah,” Matt agreed curtly. “It does.”

  Sienna glanced at her watch, checking on the time before she slipped a leg between Matt's, pushing his thighs apart and settling on her heels between his knees. “You've still got some time.” Sienna glanced down at the tenting in Matt's trousers then returned her gaze to his. “Seems like you're suffering a little tension down here, too. Would you like me to fix that for you?” Without waiting for a response, she unbuckled Matt's belt and pushed it out of the way, then unbuttoned his trousers and slowly pulled the zipper down, giving him ample time to protest.

  Matt watched her, his expression sober, his eyes swirling with emotion. When she pulled his trousers away and released his length from his boxers, she wrapped her small hand around his shaft tenderly. When she lowered her head and licked him, he jerked and groaned aloud.

  She'd barely wrapped her mouth around the full length of him when he exploded in her mouth.

  “Shit, I'm sorry,” he muttered.

  Sienna licked her tongue delicately around her lips when she straightened up. “Don't be sorry, Matt. It's nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I haven't— it's been a long time,” Matt said curtly.

  “Matt, you don't need to be embarrassed, or sorry.” Sienna wrapped her fingers around his shaft again, which despite his intense orgasm was still firm. “Let me do it again, it'll be better the second time.”

  Matt raised himself up on his elbows. “No! Thanks,” he finished lamely. He got to his feet and hurriedly adjusted himself, before he zipped up his pants.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Sienna asked quietly. She'd had some unsuccessful encounters in her time, but this one was taking the cake. The pain in Matt's eyes was tangible, mixed with a healthy dose of embarrassment, and a sliver of regret. He obviously wished he hadn't done this. He clearly had intense feelings for his deceased wife, and certainly didn't seem ready to move on yet.

  “No. Thanks.” Matt slumped on the edge of the bed and refused to meet her gaze.

  Sienna bit her lip, taking a deep breath before she scrambled awkwardly to the side of the bed and reached down for her shoes. Slipping them on, Sienna stood up and collected her purse from the table. “Goodbye, Matt.”

  Leaving the room hurriedly, Sienna didn't understand why she was hurt because Matt didn't say goodbye.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  'Sienna' had been put to bed for the night. Coming out of the shower, Emily towel dried her hair, fluffing it out with her fingers. There was no need to do anything else, in fact, no point in doing anything else. Without the wig, which was part of her Sienna persona, her dark hair was naturally curly, wild and thick and framing her face in a halo of short ringlets. No taming in the world would make it anything, other than what it was. In direct contrast, 'Sienna' had long, straight blonde hair, courtesy of an excellent wig and it suited Emily for her alter ego to be different. It was a way of creating a buffer between the two worlds Emily occupied, delineating clearly between her work as an escort, and the real Emily.

  Turning on the television, Emily sat down on her tiny couch and stared at the screen for a few minutes, although she wasn't really seeing the program. After the disastrous appointment this afternoon, she wanted nothing more than to watch a little TV, read a book, and maybe make a sandwich for dinner. It had been her worst encounter with a client since she'd started this gig two years ago.

  Emily heard a sharp knock on the door and she opened it, knowing intuitively who would be on the other side. Sally Montague – Emily's landlady, friend, and employer – stood in the doorway, dressed for the club's eight o'clock opening. Emily appraised the older women silently, evaluating the tight leather outfit she wore, which barely skimmed enough of Sally's curvaceous bulk to make it halfway decent.

  How was your appointment?” Sally questioned, breezing in and heading towards the coffee pot in Emily's tiny kitchen. “Was he okay?”

  “He was nice,” Emily confessed, following Sally and taking mugs out of the cupboard over the counter.

  “I sense a 'but',” Sally prompted, pouring coffee into the two mugs. She eyed Emily inquisitively, waiting patiently for a response.

  Emily shrugged, still trying to understand her emotional reaction to Matt Pendleton. “He's a widower. I think it was his first time, since his wife died.”

  “He wasn't ready?” Sally speculated. She was remarkably intuitive about the clients she selected for Emily, and the younger woman wondered how much Matt had revealed, when he'd made the appointment.

  “Definitely not ready.”

  Sally settled herself at Emily's small dining table, nursing the coffee mug between her hands. “Didn't get it up?”

  Emily smiled. “Definitely didn't have a problem in that department. He was just… nervous, I guess. He paid for sex and ended up with fairly ordinary fellatio.”

  “You didn't want to give him the blow job?” Sally arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow, studying Emily pointedly. “He didn't do anything nasty, did he?” Sally had provided Emily with a place to stay two years ago, at the request of her friend, Paul Meccelli. Since then, Sally had grown very close to the young woman and was fiercely protective of her. It was true of Sally in regards to all her employees. Whether they were escorts, club workers, or bar staff – Sally Montague was a protective mother hen. At fifty years old, she'd spent years building up her business and she'd seen every insidious aspect of the lifestyle she'd embraced as a naïve sixteen year old.

  “No, not at all. He was nice. Really nice.” Emily hid a little smile – despite Sally's tough exterior and her strict approach to running Salacious, a club that catered to the BDSM crowd in Seattle – she could be remarkably sweet at times. Only Sally could use the word 'nasty', as if she were talking to a five-year-old who'd had her doll stolen by the school bully. “He was really nervous. Didn't really know whether he wanted to go through with it at all, I think. I offered to give him a massage, and he was aroused, so I gave him a blowjob. I'd hardly started before he came, and he was embarrassed.�
�� Emily plucked at a stray cotton thread on her t-shirt, recalling the afternoon's events.

  “You were attracted to him.” It didn't sound like an accusation, and when Emily glanced up, she could see sympathy in Sally's eyes.

  “Yeah. I think I was.”

  “Why not follow up on it?” Sally made the suggestion with enthusiasm, and Emily grinned – her friend was always playing the matchmaker. “I have his number on file.”

  Emily shook her head. “He's not a Dom, Sally. I doubt he even knows about all this.” Emily waved her hand expansively around the room. It wasn't the small apartment they were sitting in that she was referring to; it was the club downstairs, the escort work, and Emily's own submissive nature, which made any attempt at following up with Matt Pendleton, completely impossible.

  Sally snorted. “For Christ's sake, Em, he's a cop! I doubt there's anything going on in Seattle that he doesn't know about.”

  “Knowing about it and understanding it are two completely different things and you know it,” Emily protested. “He's got four kids; this isn't the sort of thing a man like Matt Pendleton would get involved in.”

  “You won't know if you don't give it a try,” Sally countered.

  Emily drained her coffee mug and went to the counter to pour a refill, keeping her back to Sally. “I'm an escort, Sally. I sell my body for a living. Let's face it; a man in Matt Pendleton's situation would never consider a relationship with me – not in a million years. Even if he did, it wouldn't work. I'm a sub. I need a Dom.” Emily returned to the table, stirring her coffee.

  For a long moment, Sally stared at Emily, and Emily returned her gaze, refusing to be intimidated. For a sub, Emily knew she was an enigma, capable of being so strong and yet harboring a desire to have a man dominate her in the bedroom. It was that desire which had brought Emily into Sally's life two years ago, after an encounter with a Dom who'd nearly killed her. Paul had arrived on the doorstep of Salacious with Emily, begging Sally to take her in and keep her safe for 'a while'. A while had turned into two years and created a strong and loving relationship between the two women. Tapping her perfectly manicured fingernails against the table, Sally considered Emily for another full minute before she spoke. “What do you want me to do, if he asks for you again?”

  “Put him on the no contact list. I don't want to see him again.” Emily responded, after a long moment of thought.

  Sally sighed, pushing up from the table to her feet. “Alright, then. Are you coming down to the club tonight?”

  Emily shook her head, offering Sally a tiny smile. “No, I'll give it a miss.”

  “You want me to send some food up?”

  “Nah, I'll just make a sandwich. Maybe do some studying. I might get an early night.” In all honesty, Emily wasn't sure what she was going to do with her evening. Try to get Matt Pendleton out of her mind, where he'd been constantly installed for the past few hours. Even an hour of retail therapy hadn't shifted the man from her memory, and shopping usually helped calm Emily's mind when something was bothering her.

  “Alright then. I'll leave you to it.” Sally blew Emily a kiss as she strolled out and Emily slumped back onto the couch, wondering if she'd made the right decision.

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Sally strode into her office, checking for messages before she headed downstairs. Friday night at Salacious was always hectic and this last half hour before opening was the last few minutes of calm before the crazy started.

  Perched on the edge of her leather desk chair, Sally slipped on her glasses – turning fifty had done nothing for her ego – and started taking notes from the voice messages that needed action. Her attention was piqued by a familiar gravelly male voice. “This is Matt Pendleton. I'd like to see Sienna again. My number's 5552486.” This was followed by a couple of mundane messages from suppliers, then a further message which made Sally grin. “It's Matt Pendleton again. I'd like to speak to Sienna. You have the number.” By the time she'd listened to another couple of messages, Sally positively chuckled when she heard the same voice again, sounding impatient. “Matt Pendleton here. This must be the only goddamn escort service in the country, which doesn't answer calls on a Friday night. Please have Sienna call me. 5552486.”

  It was a shame to put him on Emily's no contact list, but examining her conscience, Sally knew she had little choice. The list was one of Sally's own initiatives, a precautionary measure to give her girls the option of vetoing clients who made them feel uncomfortable, or who behaved badly. Sally had never reneged on the list – if one of her small group of escorts didn't want to service a client again, it was their decision, and Sally wouldn't interfere. In this case, Sally wondered if it was the right thing to do. Matt Pendleton hadn't done anything to make Emily unhappy – he'd made her uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, either, judging by the emotion Sally had seen in Emily's eyes.

  Leaning back in the chair, Sally watched the monitors over her desk, which displayed a steady feed from the club downstairs. Already the bar was busy with customers and she really needed to get down there herself, to greet and mingle, yet the conundrum over Emily was playing on her mind. Sally was nothing, if not honest with herself, and she was forced to admit she didn't want to put this man on Emily's list. He might not be a Dom, but the interest in Emily's eyes was hard to ignore. Besides, he could learn to be a Dom – many of the people who visited Salacious for the first time hadn't discovered their true nature, not until they'd scrutinized their own sexuality – and Matt Pendleton might have the makings of a Dom. And he was a cop – most cops Sally had met were naturally dominant, whether they used that character trait in the bedroom or not.

  Tapping the keyboard thoughtfully with her pen, Sally huffed out a sigh. Whether Sally thought it was a mistake or not, Emily had the right to choose which clients she would see, and she'd requested the man be put on her no contact list. Against her better judgment, Sally fulfilled Emily's request and made the note on her records. Matt Pendleton wouldn't be allowed to see Sienna again, and Sally picked up the phone to advise him of the decision and appease him with the offer of someone else.

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Matt slammed his cell phone down onto the kitchen bench, mightily pissed off with the call he'd just received. For fuck's sake! The woman had been pleasant and polite, but extremely determined. Sienna wouldn't be available to him in the future and that just pissed him off to the max. He was welcome to arrange an appointment with one of the other escorts, blah, blah, blah.

  He didn't want to see anybody else. He wanted to see Sienna. There was no reason for the urgency of his desire, other than an erection that refused to be tamed. Arriving home after the fiasco in the hotel, Matt had initially blown off any idea of seeing her again. His parents were babysitting the kids through until Sunday night; he should take off for a couple of days, clear his head. Get a handle on where his life was headed. Between work and the kids, there didn't seem to be a minute left over for him, and it was crushing. The strain of working homicide was telling on him, the stress in turn was affecting the kids. The long hours, the depressing work, the failure of the court system to mete out justice was getting him down and the situation was becoming impossible as a single parent. The kids all had issues stemming from their mother's death, and Matt didn't know how to handle it, what to do with them. Caroline had been the glue that held the family together, without her – it had all gone to hell.

  The empty house taunted him, the ghost of Caroline an endless presence when the kids weren't here. It was less painful when they were home and the house was filled with noise – with them gone, the house he and Caroline had built when they first married was an empty shell, a prison full of painful memories. Since he'd arrived home from the hotel, Matt hadn't even been into the living room, instead pacing around in the kitchen as though he were a stranger in his own home. More than once since Caroline's death, he'd considered selling up and moving, but the kids were happy here, their schools were close and it was a
safe suburb to live in. His neighbors were pleasant, the kids had their friends nearby, and he knew his already fragile relationship with Courtney would be destroyed if he suggested moving.

  He should probably just call his Mom, go and collect the kids and bring them home. The idea of being alone until Sunday night was almost unbearable. He could phone some of his friends, make some plans, but he didn't relish the thought of being the third wheel in whatever they did. Another problem with being a widower – well-meaning friends invited him to dinner parties, where he was the odd man out, or they asked him to parties where he was constantly being pushed towards a single woman they knew who was 'perfect' for him. Matt cringed. Nope, definitely not.

  What he really wanted to do was see Sienna again. Despite the knowledge she was a hooker, Matt found he wanted to see her, talk to her again. He found himself fascinated by the beautiful young woman, wanted to know more about her. He didn't want another trashy meeting with Sienna in a hotel room.

  He wanted to take her on a date.

  Matt chewed on his lip thoughtfully and pulled a beer from the refrigerator. He must be out of his damned mind – she was a prostitute, and he was a cop. He didn't know the first thing about her, other than the fact that she had a screaming hot body and the face of an angel.

  Working on a hunch, Matt picked up his cell phone and dialed a familiar number, waiting impatiently as it began to ring.