Flesh: Part Eleven (The Flesh Series Book 11) by Sky Corgan Page A

Soliciting sex from your Dominant or Domme will result in
termination of your contract without a refund. Any sexual acts that
take place within a scene are at the discretion of two consenting
adults. We do not offer sex as a service here but provide the option
on the kink sheet so that the Dominant or Domme will know the extent
of your limits.
    Still sounds like
legal prostitution to me.
    Distracting myself
is near impossible. Every time a sex scene flashes across the
television, I picture Lucian with the heroine, whoever she may be. I
wonder if he's having sex with someone else while I pathetically sit
at home and think about him. I wonder if he's even thinking about me
at all, or if I'm already a distant memory to him. There's nothing
spectacular about me. Nothing that would hold a guy like him
interested. That's obvious. Because if he was still interested in me,
he'd call me or reply to my texts or...something.
    My nerves are on
edge when I lay down to sleep on Saturday night. All I can think
about is what I'm going to say to Lucian. Will I be able to hold
myself together without completely whaling on him? The thought of
slapping him is more than appealing. A swift kick to the family
jewels would probably do him some good too. One thing is for certain,
I definitely won't be walking into Flesh as a submissive.
    After only a few
restless hours of sleep, Sunday finally comes. It feels like there's
a thrumming inside of my head from stress. It's way too early to feel
this horrible. But hopefully, this is the last time I'll have to feel
this way because of Lucian Reddick. When I leave Flesh today, we will
be officially done on all levels. Physically. Emotionally.
Professionally. It's an almost liberating feeling, knowing that I'm
going to reclaim my heart from a man who has been carelessly
destroying it over the past few weeks.
    I sit on the sofa
and stare at the clock, watching it tick down to my appointment with
Lucian. An hour before our meeting time, I start getting dressed.
There's not going to be anything easy access about me tonight.
    I slip a pair of
pink leggings on under a blue plaid skirt, then shimmy into a gray
camisole and layer a brown long-sleeved shirt on top. I pull my hair
back into a high ponytail, because I know he prefers it when I wear
my hair down. Then I paint my face in nude tones, not taking much
care in how decent I look. I want to come off as boring—too
boring for him.
    I climb into my car
and turn the key in the ignition. The entire way over to Flesh, I'm
plagued with tiny heart palpitations. Damn, he's really not good for
my health. I'm so nervous that I'm starting to second guess myself.
Maybe this is a bad idea. Perhaps I should just let our relationship
die out naturally. Is it really necessary for me to get my feelings
across to him? Wouldn't not showing up for the appointment be a
subtle sort of revenge? He wouldn't get paid for that thirty minutes,
and that should piss him off good and well.
    That won't help me
though. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this for me,
not him. If I don't talk about how I feel, these thoughts will eat
away at me until I have a nervous breakdown and start hating all men.
I don't want that. I shouldn't allow him to scar me so deeply.
    When I pull up in
front of Flesh, I can't help but frown. The place looks so shoddy,
I'm surprised that Janice was ever able to convince me to come in the
first place. It's in an old warehouse with the word Flesh above the
door in large flickering red neon letters, like something from a
horror movie. In broad daylight, I imagine it's a little less
intimidating, but with the sun setting in the distance, one would
half-expect to see rats hiding around the corner of the building.
Perhaps that's being a bit too harsh though. It is on the nicer side
of town, and the parking lot is well kept and lit sufficiently. I'm
probably just being bitter, because the appearance of the building
never really bothered me before. It's low