There were two things that I got from the exchange. One, that the woman was way older than I thought, if she had a son old enough to be working. Heck, that made me feel good. I had no bias against older women, and if I’d just done a MILF? Sweet.
But the other thing was that Mama’s son had absolutely no talent. The tat was literally the worst I’d ever seen, random lines curving this way and that on an etch-a-sketch. Shit, she should look into getting that shit lasered off no matter how much it cost. It was worth it, better than going around with a mess permanently inked on your body.
But Sproul had just arrived in the hallway, his face courteous, impossibly civil, giving nothing away.
“Madame,” he said bowing at the waist. “May I show you to the exit?”
“Oh yeah!” she squealed. “Like a butler, cool!”
I rolled my eyes, stretching in the small bed. The real reason was that I didn’t want a working girl to get lost in the Palace, wander to some restricted area where there was a meeting with the Chancellor or some visiting dignitaries. The Palace was big, but it could happen. Imagine it. Working girl shows up half-naked at a meeting filled with old, cranky white guys talking about accounting or some shit like that. Shits and giggles man, shits and giggles.
But whatevs. Sproul was here already, bowing and extending his arm.
And the girl took it, jumping up and down with excitement at the prospect of being escorted. “Bye now!” she sang over her shoulder at me, wiggling her ass one last time. I ignored her, heaving myself out of bed, mentally bracing myself for the day head. What was on the agenda? I’d have to look it up.
But Sproul was only too happy to remind me, now that he’d finished escorting the woman out, meeting me in the royal library afterwards.
“How’d it go with Mama?” I asked. “You show her out okay?”
Sproul didn’t even deign to reply.
“You have an event tonight at the Sant Ambroes Hotel,” he sniffed. “Miss Carroll’s girls will be there. Much better than what you’ve been indulging in lately,” he added darkly.
“Oh you mean Mama,” I drawled, laughing when I saw the butler’s indignant look. “Mama’s her name, and hooking is her game,” I grunted. “Don’t ask me, I have no idea why she’s called that.”
Sproul looked miffed.
“Miss Carroll’s girls are the highest quality,” he said, looking at me down his nose. “You’ll see,” he intimated. I just ignored the comment. I’d allegedly been meeting the best girls in Europe for years now, and I’d never heard of this Miss Carroll’s place.
But now that the ladies were here, I could see what set them apart. Food, it was the food. Again, I hate starved-looking females, so thin that they’re almost transparent, rope-like with brittle arms and legs. Miss Carroll’s girls, by contrast, were healthy and fit, curvaceous and voluptuous. Sure, they gasped and tittered like women all over the world, but at least I could see real womanflesh, and not emaciated bones.
So I perked up, feeling a little more awake. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so painful, I’d be able to relax a little, enjoy myself. I was reaching for a second glass of champagne, congratulating myself for attending the event, when I caught sight of her. It isn’t often that the blood rushes downward making my dong stiffen, but that’s what happened when Tina stepped into the drawing room.
Curly brown hair, big hazel eyes and a heart-shaped face, she was a looker and then some. Wide hips bracketed a tiny waist and juicy ass, all of it topped with gazongas that had to be Double Ds at a minimum. I felt my heart hammering, blood pumping hard in my groin, a rushing sound in my ears.
And of course, she and another girl were headed my way. In two seconds flat they were by my side, the tiny blonde grabbing my arm.
“Hi, you must be Prince Kristian,” she chattered. “I’m Millie, I mean Millicent, and this is the Lady Christina.”
The brunette let out a genuine smile, and my heart caught in my throat. God, she was beautiful, I could almost feel warm rays caressing my skin.
“Everyone calls me Tina,” she said throatily. Oh shit, that voice was like dark velvet, a full-bodied glass of merlot that I had every intention of downing sip by sip.
“Tina you’re not supposed to!” giggled her friend. “We’re supposed to go by our given names remember? Miss Carroll said.”
But Tina just rolled her eyes and shot me a half-smile. “Sorry but Millicent and I are real girls, and we go by Millie and Tina, not Lady Anything.”
By now, I’d gotten my body under some control and reached for Tina’s hand. Her fingers were long and elegant, her wrist like a swan. Pressing a kiss on the inside, I growled, “Pleased to meet you.”
Tina’s eyebrows flew up at the intimacy, her pulse pounding under my fingers, beating like a butterfly.
“Do you always kiss ladies’ wrists when you first meet them?” she asked archly, looking at me through their lashes.
“Only if they’re as beautiful as you,” I rumbled, with a half-smile on my lips.
Her friend, meanwhile, had finally caught on to the vibes between us, some serious shit that didn’t include her.
“Um, should I go get a drink or something?” she twittered, “or do you guys need drinks too? I can get something for all three of us.”