Filthy, Dirty Desires
Every dark, depraved thing they intend on doing to me is bared in their eyes and it has me squirming with nerves where I sit.
These kind of men usually book escorts. What do they need me for?
“She’s even sexier than I expected,” the man with a scar tells the other man in a thick Russian accent.
“I told you to trust my judgement,” replies the other man as he drags his pale blue eyes over my frame. “I am Sebastyan and this is Ronan.” He gestures to the man with the scar. “What is your name, malysh?”
“Honey,” I lie. That’s the name I give my clients. I never make the mistake of giving them my real name or address for security reasons.