Now that Serena took a good look at him, she recognized John from Harvard. They'd gone to many of the same parties after Trent had left. They'd even made out once or twice, but that was as far as it had gotten. And now John was living out in the boonies, she thought derisively. On purpose. Just like Serena's father, a successful accountant who had moved from Palo Alto to Des Moines.
She disguised her judgment with a warm smile as she crawled into John's lap and straddled him. His aura of self-loathing made a lot of sense, now that she thought about it, and she wondered if she could distract him from it. She could certainly try. She pressed a kiss to his lips, one hand gripping his tie, the other sliding into his hair. After a moment's hesitation, John kissed her back, pulling her flush against him with both hands on her ass. She broke the kiss and reflexively started to pull back.
"Hey, now," she murmured. "Don't get too excited. That kiss was free, but I charge $3,200 a night if you're looking for more."
John gave a noise of surprise when he heard her price. "That much? What makes you think you're worth it?" He glanced pointedly at her absolute lack of tits.
She rolled her eyes. "I don't set the price, my husband does."
John rolled his eyes, too, and made a show of throwing up his hands. "A married hooker. This gets better and better. What's next? Wait, don't tell me. You're actually a drag queen," he added sarcastically.
Serena blinked at him. "You can tell?"
John's jaw dropped and he just about pushed her off his lap, but thought better of it and pulled her close again. "I'll repent for this in the morning," he decided. He threw her down in the couch, eliciting a delighted squeal, and kissed her furiously as he put on a condom.
Now that her 'secret' was out, she was remarkably less picky, like putty in his hands, responsive to every touch, willing to do anything he wanted. She felt good, and while something nagging in the back of his head told him he'd picked her up before, even had a similar sort of conversation with her, he didn't fully recognize her. It wasn't until he was moaning her name in climax that he thought about it.
"Serena... Is that a popular name for girls in your line of work?" he asked breathlessly, as he pulled out and disposed of the condom.
She looked quizzically at him as she tried to discreetly clean herself with a wet nap. "I don't know," she said. "It's not a rare name, why?"
He gazed at her. "I picked up a Serena recently, when I was in California. She was also a pretty blonde drag queen."
She tittered. "Yes, that was me," Serena confirmed. "We've hooked up a few times, actually. I wasn't going to charge you for tonight, by the way. I never did before."
As he got dressed, his expression was a stone wall. That self-hatred was creeping back in again. "Right. I didn't recognize you without those boy toys you're always clinging to."
"And I almost didn't recognize you without a stick in your ass, yet here we are," she retorted.
"Was that an offer?" he shot back sarcastically; he knew Serena didn't like topping. They glared at each other for a moment, then just as quickly as his clothes had gone back on, they came off as the two of them launched themselves at each other.
After their second round, John pulled Serena to snuggle up against him for a few minutes, then decided to push his luck. He ran his hand up her inner thigh, towards where no one was allowed to touch, paying customer or otherwise. She grabbed his wrist before his hand could get too close.
"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his tone mocking. "Don't you want to get off, too?"
She looked at him, conflicted.
"Why not?" John asked. He slowly slid down her body, maintaining eye contact until he slipped his head under her skirt. She squirmed, but didn't stop him this time. She was helpless to his touch, a slave to lust.
That was her sin.
--
They spent some time together after that, reminiscing about Harvard and drugs. Serena was mostly clean; John ...had his moments. He'd been using when he and his brothers had reunited. Serena's earnestness, the ease with which she bubbled forth affection, made him want to go for the pipe again. He wanted to tell her to cut the bullshit; it may be her job to make men feel good, but he wasn't paying her and she didn't need to act like he was someone worth caring about. But every time he so much as insinuated her sweet words and insistent clinginess made him uncomfortable, she looked at him like he'd just slaughtered her grandparents on a whim. He'd never met someone so openly needy, not even Faith. So he let her snuggle up in his lap and tell him how sexy and amazing he was. He began to relax and let her stroke his ego, among other things.
"You're not going to fall in love with me, are you?" he asked at one point, half sarcastically.
She looked at him, surprised, and scoffed. "Sweetie, I don't fall for every guy I fuck," she said bluntly. "I just like to be able to pamper who I'm with at the time."
"You're cuddly for a whore." He didn't know why he felt the need to deflect, to insult her. She didn't care, though. She'd heard worse from her husband's consort.
"And you're charming for a multi-practice lawyer." She meant it sarcastically, but it didn't quite come out that way. She scooted into his lap and draped her arms round his shoulders. "Look, okay, I'm not exactly looking for another boyfriend. You and I have some things in common and I enjoy spending time with you. That's all there is to it."
"Is that why you don't charge me?" he asked, amused.
"Part of it. I'm not in it for the money. I just...." She hesitated. "I feel better, during sex, about life. About the fact that I'm forced to stay alive for my husband's amusement, or whatever it is he gets out of this. Some guys approached us back when I started doing drag and asked if they could, you know.... And Luci joked that they could do whatever they wanted for $300 an hour. Then we ended up increasing it to $400 to send a message to clients after some guys from the varsity football team got a little too...." She grimaced.
"For that high a price, they should be able to do whatever they want," John argued. "It's appalling to me that you think you can make any sort of requests."
"You're missing the point. Money or no money, it's still my body at the end of the day. Neither Luci nor I actually need or care about the money. We just charge because there are people willing to pay, that's all. It adds a barrier to surmount, and thus, intrigue. People like that, for some reason."
"How many guys get to do you for free?" John wanted to know.
"None of your business," Serena responded easily and without rancor. "Would you like to remain one of them?"
Point taken. John shut his mouth and nuzzled into her hair. She relaxed and sighed happily against him. Lying together like this, they could easily be mistaken for a pair of ordinary lovers.
--
"Why do you like me?" John asked. Serena regarded him pensively.
"The folk song the choir sings about you, how bold and brave you are, has some truth to it," she said. "Your people like you, don't they?"
John smiled and cupped her cheek. "Why do you, Serena?"
She nuzzled his hand. "We have a lot in common. Both educated at Harvard Law, both need affection like oxygen, both have deep ties to men we idolize who may or may not fully approve of us."
John shifted uncomfortably. She could see it, then, his desperation for his brother's approval?
"Both willing to become anything, no matter how insane it may look, to be indispensable to those men."
John dropped his hand. "We do have a lot in common," he agreed. "I display my sin openly on my body. You, however... yours is somewhere a bit more private."
Serena closed her eyes and wrinkled her brow slightly, letting out a sigh. "You noticed that, huh?"
"It's an intimate place for a tattoo," John said.
"No shit. I was so wasted that week, I don't remember getting it, nor do I know how recovery was. I'm just glad it didn't get infected." Serena took a swig of her green apple vodka, as if to emphasize her point. "I don't even know who did it. Just that they were professional. Didn't take advantage."
John scoffed. "They probably got the hint that you were marking yourself for Trent, considering it's his name you've got there."
Serena scoffed right back. "Yeah. I was saving myself for him. I did save myself for him. But he went back to his college crush, even though she treated him like shit. I married Luci, who treats me better than I deserve." She took another drink. "So, what am I, John? Lust or envy? Which of those are you going to carve into my flesh?"
John didn't want to think about work right now. He pulled her closer, running his fingers through her hair. "I'll flip a coin," he said, a little more cavalier than usual. Serena gave him a long look, then smiled that usual contented smile she had when they were cuddling. He was a few years older than she was, old enough that they had almost missed each other in law school.
As if reading her mind, he asked, "How old are you, anyway?"
Serena thought about scolding him for asking a lady's age, but she knew his rebuttal would be that she wasn't a lady. That wasn't a point she wanted to argue right now, so she answered, "I'll be 34 in September."
"How old are Trent and Nathaniel?"
"Nathaniel... 33 in March. Trent, 33 in May. If you were going to ask, yes, they're the only male lovers who are younger than me."
"Why do you dress and act so young?" John asked, changing tacks. "Since most of your lovers are older than you anyway, why not just act your age?"
"Says the guy who pretends to still be in his mid-20's."
"Better over 18 than under."
Serena blinked at him. "Excuse me?"
"Serena, half your wardrobe is plaid knee skirts, and the other half is pink frilly cutesy crap. It's a little unnerving."
She shook her head. "When were you going to tell me you had such a problem with how I dress? Besides, a lot of guys like the 'pink frilly cutesy crap', as you so charmingly put it."
John frowned. "I just feel like a creep for being so attracted to you when you insist on looking like that."
Serena smiled fondly at him. "Don't overthink it," she said. "After all, we're all sinners, are we not?"
He could practically see her locking away in her brain his admission of attraction to her. He wondered if he'd regret saying so later on.
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