“Hello,” I called softly as I walked down the long hall.
“Getting warmer,” a masculine voice said from somewhere at the end of the hall.
“Mr. Bernard?”
“Almost there.”
I entered the living room and stopped. My gaze landed on the old-fashioned brick fireplace and, more specifically, on several sketches. Sketches of a nude woman and man. Although the faces were obscure, the bodies showed in full detail what Bernard was interested in: small budding breasts, narrow hips, and slender limbs like a body still developing.
My stomach roiled.
I’m going to be sick.
“Oh my. How lovely.”
I spun around. An older guy sat in an armchair, wearing a rich purple robe. Beside the chair was a small table with a decanter from which he poured some of the liquid into a glass. He raised the glass to his thin lips and took a gulp, all the while watching me.
“Well, don’t just stand there, boy.” He waved me forward. “Come closer and let me have a better look.”
Fuck. I was screwing this up.
I unlocked my knees and, smiling, sauntered over to the man. He never took his eyes off me. Usually, I would flutter my lashes and tease, but that wouldn’t work with this man. If he liked them young, he more than likely preferred them shy and inexperienced too.
“Closer.” He urged.
I lowered my eyes and bit my bottom lip as I stood directly in front of him.
“Raise your head and let me see that pretty face.”
I lifted my head and prepared to give the performance of a lifetime.