Escort
Copyright© 2026 by Sandra Alek
Chapter 5
She was ready for anything: for his hands to slide around her waist, for a kiss on her shoulder, for hands squeezing her breasts. She was ready to fight back hard.
His fingers confidently and quickly untied the wet strings. The fabric on her chest loosened.
“Done,” he said quietly. “Good night, Hel. See you in the morning.”
He simply turned and went to his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
Helen stood in the middle of the room, holding the fallen straps of her top with her hands. She looked from Steve’s closed door to the wet strip of fabric in her hands, then back to his door. Instead of relief, a dull, burning disappointment rose inside her.
“Does he really not understand hints like that?” flashed through her mind. She jerked her shoulder in offense, almost ran out of the living room, and slammed her own door hard.
Lying in bed under the open sky, Helen stared at the stars, but all she saw was Steve’s face. Her thoughts raced like startled night birds.
His behavior made no sense. On one hand, she wasn’t blind: she had seen his pupils grow large, heard his voice change when he came close, felt that hungry, almost physical look as he scanned her body. She knew what a man looked like when he wanted a woman.
But on the other hand ... his scary, almost unnatural self-control. Tonight she had created the perfect, completely acceptable reason herself. She stood in front of him half-naked, with her back to him, and asked him to untie the knot — that was an invitation even the dumbest teenager would understand.
And Steve? He touched only the strings. No “accidental” fingers brushing her skin, no hot breath on her neck. He untied it, said good night, and left.
“Either he’s a master of self-control, or I’m imagining the whole thing,” she thought bitterly.
Maybe Iris was wrong? Maybe to him she was just an expensive accessory, like a watch or a rented villa? A pretty picture to show off his status to business partners, and nothing more? And his “hungry looks” were just him checking the quality of what he bought?
That thought stung her pride. All her life Helen had been proud of her mind, but now what hurt was that her “womanly power” seemed to hit a concrete wall.
“Fine, Steve,” she whispered into the empty room, feeling the hunter’s excitement wake up inside her. “I’ll find out. I’ll make you show your real face.”
With that determination, mixed with the last of the alcohol fog and the sound of the waves, she finally fell into a heavy, deep sleep.
The morning started with a cold, calculated plan. Helen opened her bedroom door just enough to make it look like an accident — as if a draft had pushed it. She stepped into the glass shower cube and turned on barely warm water — no steam, so everything would be clearly visible. While soaping her body, she kept glancing at the doorway, waiting for him to appear in the common room.
But Steve didn’t come.
That stung her. After the shower, she wrapped a towel around her hips, but she did it on purpose in a careless way — so that the lower third of her buttocks stayed exposed. Without knocking, charged with her own boldness, she pushed open the door to his bedroom.
Steve was in the middle of his morning workout — doing squats, wearing only short athletic shorts. When he saw her, he literally dropped to the floor and froze in a sitting position with wide-open eyes.
“There we go,” she thought triumphantly to herself. “Not so unbreakable after all, Mr. Control.”
“What’s the plan for today?” she asked in the most ordinary tone, as if walking into his room half-naked was her everyday habit.
Steve couldn’t take his eyes off her. Helen saw him swallow hard before he managed to answer:
“Breakfast ... then I have a meeting. You have free time.”
“Good. I’ll be ready soon,” Helen said with a short nod. She waited a moment for effect, then slowly turned her back to him, showing her half-naked buttocks.
She felt him exhale loudly behind her, almost with a whistle.
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