Jasmine and I exchange a what-the-fuck-card looks. I dig into my back pocket and pull out the only one I have. The one GiGi handed us with this address on it. I hold it up. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She hands it back to me. “Now let me show you around.” She turns and walks off as we follow close behind. “We dress all the Queens. The client will notify Titan what the occasion is, and he will inform me and yourself on the app.”
“No way.” Jasmine smiles. “We get to keep what we wear?”
“Well, yes and no.” She goes on. “You’ll have an account; the item you wear will be scanned. It will withdraw that amount from your account. When you return said item, you’ll scan it again and it deposits the amount. If you don’t return it … well, you get the idea.”
“This is amazing,” Jasmine squeals.
“We have everything from bathing suits, to lingerie, to assless chaps,” she continues. “To high heels, sandals, and skis. If you have something in mind that we don’t keep in stock, we can have it made as long as we have a couple of weeks’ notice. You’d be surprised by how many of the clients plan vacations as far as a year in advance with a Queen.”
We walk past a couple of women going through what looks to be like an evening gown section.
“Do we have to wear something from here if we get a job?” I ask. Not like I have anything I could wear. Most of my things are still in Chicago.
“No,” she answers, continuing to walk toward the back of the warehouse. “You may wear whatever you like. As long as it goes with what the client desires.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to wear something from here?” Jasmine whispers.
The lady comes to a stop and turns to face us. “I’ll let you two look around.” She nods over to the back right-hand corner of the store. “There are the fitting rooms. Try a few things on and let me know when you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” I ask.
“Your photos.”
“What photos?” Jasmine asks what I’m thinking.
“We have a studio here where we take professional photos for Titan to use when clients request a specific look, blond, brunette. Blue eyes or brown eyes, etc. Once you decide on what you want to wear, we will do the shoot and then upload the pictures to the Queens app for the clients.”
Ah, now the three pounds of makeup the lady put on me at the salon makes sense. I nod. “Can we wear anything?” I ask.
“I suggest business attire, an evening dress, and a bathing suit. We will upload one picture of each to the app and to Titan as well.” With that, she leaves us.
I turn to face Jasmine. She has a smile on her face, and her green eyes are huge. “This is so awesome.” She grabs my hands and starts to jump up and down. “I feel like Pretty Woman. But the best part is that I don’t have to fuck one guy for the rest of my life.”
I laugh. “Come on, Julia Roberts. Let’s go find you something to wear.”
We pick out a bathing suit and then make our way over to the evening gowns. The two women are still digging through the racks.
“Hi.” Of course, Jasmine must talk to them. She’s never met a stranger. That is why being a Queen is going to be perfect for her.
“Hello,” the brunette says to us.
“So how long have you been a Queen?” Jasmine asks, being nosy.
“Three months,” the blonde answers.
“A little over a year,” the other one chimes in.
Jasmine takes a step toward them and lowers her voice. “Have you guys ever been in The Palace?”
They exchange a look. “It’s a myth,” the blonde finally responds after a long moment of silence.
“Urban legend,” the brunette adds.
“What’s The Palace?” I ask.
Jasmine is the one who answers me. “It’s a sex dungeon that clients use.”
I shake my head. “Count me out.” Is that why the application asked questions regarding safe words and hard limits? That’s one thing I hate about the situation I have found myself in—Titan knows what I prefer when it comes to doing this job. I didn’t say I’d fuck any guy, but I filled in the box that I’d be open-minded.
“Really? I think it sounds like fun.” Jasmine smiles.
“You would.” I chuckle.
“When you’ve been fed vanilla all your life, rocky road sounds pretty damn delicious.” She wiggles her dark eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. I know damn well that that woman prefers the kinkier kind of sex rather than vanilla.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TITAN
I’M SITTING IN my office when my cell goes off with an email. I open it up to see three attachments. They’re of Emilee.
The first one has her in a red one-piece bathing suit. She stands in front of an all-white backdrop with her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side and a smile on her face. She looks happy, almost excited.