Chapter 4

“Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Authority personified in flesh and Pleasers heels, Lindsay flourished an open palm toward the king-sized bed. Yet it was the same old story, one she despised. The volatile chemistry that sparked between client and provider, potent enough to combust, now neutralized by the unavoidable, antiseptic wash of state-mandated protocol and legalities. Wincing at the thought, Lindsay strode over and pivoted at the vanity, adopting a stance that indicated the negotiating phase.

Malaki guided Kristanna to the edge of the mattress, his hand on the curve of her ass – not bruising force, just the solid, undeniable pressure of ownership already assumed. He chose not to sit beside her, remaining upright, gaze sweeping the room – walls, door, window – before snapping back to Kristanna. The starving predator hadn’t vanished; it was simply leashed, waiting.

He looks impatient, even irritated. Kristanna’s chin dipped in a silent retreat. Her vision focused on the intricate weave of the bedspread until the lines blurred, and she gulped over the ball of sawdust in her throat. This is really happening. The inner flame that ignited moments ago was still there for her, too, but it felt contained now, forced aside by this sudden professional necessity.

“We’ve established the three-hour session length, which aligns with our strict daily limit for new courtesans.” Lindsay shot Kristanna a look – a silent acknowledgement, an instruction to let her handle all the particulars. “Before we discuss finances, Malaki, what are you looking for tonight? The more specific you are, the better Valkyrie can tailor the party to you and your needs.”

“Nothing complicated, babydoll. Just my usual.” His hand floated downward and found Kristanna’s, staking another claim. “The full girlfriend vibe, you feel me? Deep, open-mouthed kissing; lots of foreplay and touching; extensive oral, both ways; and snowflake needs to know I’maa be hittin’ that from every conceivable angle.”

Oh God.

“I peeped her profile. Yep, yep. All that flexibility talk? We definitely gonna explore that tonight.” He brushed a long lock of hair away from her face. “I want those standing positions, those challenging fucks. I don’t want snowflake to simply take it, either – I need her giving energy back, matching what I bring. When I go hard, she go harder, you understand what I am sayin’?”

The profile. Shit!

Lindsay’s expression remained neutral, unfazed, before she gauged the new girl’s demeanor. “Valkyrie, are you fully comfortable and willing to engage in those activities with Malaki tonight?”

Comfortable? Is she serious? The gauntlet had been thrown down, the expectations explicit. Hittin’ that from ... every conceivable angle. Three hours of being Valkyrie, of living up to that profile, of transforming into the Nordic fuck gymnast Lindsay and Jenn were marketing. I may as well be the porn star myself. Complicating matters was the intense attraction she felt toward Malaki, her body responding to him in ways that confused and frightened her. Those eyes, that smile. Could Kristanna do this? Do I have a choice? Would she even survive and make it through the session in one piece?

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Excellent! Now, let’s talk money.” Lindsay shored her leaning frame, supporting herself with a hand on the vanity. “Taking into account Valkyrie’s exclusive qualities – her authentic Scandinavian heritage which is quite rare in our industry, the athletic prowess you alluded to in her profile, and this being her first-ever day at the brothel, with you as her first client, Malaki – while pairing all that with the requested services you’ve outlined for three hours ... the cost will be nine thousand dollars.”

A brittle crack of laughter erupted – part cough, part bark – that shattered and fell around the room like broken glass. “Nah, nah, nah. Hold up, Lindsay. You trippin’ with those numbers, and you know it.” He took a measured breath and eased it out. “Valkyrie here,” Malaki gazed down at her with brows raised, a one-sided smile quirking his lips, “she’s fire, straight up. But nine stacks? That’s Piper territory – the porn megastar plastered all over social media with her own brand and millions of adoring fans. You ain’t gonna play me like that. Your regular girls pull what – eight bills an hour? Do the math. Twenty-four hundred sounds right for what we talkin’ about here.”

It was worth a shot on Lindsay’s part, wasn’t it? Asking Christina’s rate for the Day One Girl was ambitious bordering on absurd. Pricing her raw potential as if it already had worldwide acclaim. Malaki was shrewd, savvy. Commerce operated on demonstrated worth, not potential. The businessman in him couldn’t justify paying established-brand prices for a speculative investment, no matter how attractive the package or how intense their connection.

“Apples and oranges, Malaki. But Valkyrie isn’t baseline, or average. You and I both know that.” The dresser-drawer creaked as Lindsay withdrew her weight from it and stepped closer, ready to stand her ground. “You’ll be her first-ever client. That’s not just a typical booking, it’s a milestone. Something only you can claim, permanently. You’ve asked for specialized service, too, not standard. Twenty-four hundred for three hours just isn’t acceptable. I need a serious offer.”

Nine thousand. Twenty-four hundred. Apples and oranges? The numbers slamming back and forth like gavels striking wood at auction stirred a memory from Kristanna’s childhood. Høstdag. Harvest day. She found herself instantly transported back in time to the family farm, particularly the orchard. Rows of trees heavy with fruit, wooden crates awaiting their bounty.

Perfect, unblemished apples commanded premium prices at Oslo markets; spotted ones sold to local juice producers; the rest, discarded as animal feed or compost. Lindsay presented Kristanna as top-grade. First fruit of the harvest? Maiden picking rights? Malaki slashed the valuation, relegating her to quality everyday selection rather than rare specialty reserve. I’m just a commodity now. Flesh to be graded. Caught in their negotiation crossfire, Kristanna felt herself becoming more produce than person, suspended and jostled in hands inspected for flaws, waiting to see which bin she’d be tossed into.

“Okay, Lindsay, okay. You pushed hard. Point taken. But nine? Not gonna happen.” Malaki’s playful edge faded, replaced by the flat, hard look of a man closing a deal. “Forget baseline, forget Piper territory. For her, ” he gestured at Kristanna, “for tonight ... one G an hour.” Three fingers rose between them, steady and clear. “Three hours, three G’s. That’s my final. We good, or nah?”

“We’re good, at least from my end. That’s perfectly acceptable.” Lindsay redirected, now focusing on Kristanna. “Valkyrie, honey, are you? Please confirm this rate works for you before we proceed.”

Sold. Kristanna blinked the grit from her eyes, fixing her gaze somewhere neutral, near Lindsay’s elbow. “Yes.”

“Good, good. Malaki, I think you know what comes next: health and safety procedure.” Latex snapped against skin as Lindsay pulled gloves from the drawer and worked them onto her hands. “Please lower your jeans so we can perform the dick check.”

The rasp of metal descending Malaki’s fly cut through the air. Denim bunched as he shoved it low, cotton boxers caught with the motion, clearing his hips. His cock, virile and undeniably male, sprang forward from a trimmed tangle of obsidian hairs to confront the prostitute who must now do her job and serve its pleasure.