"Just know, V is loyal, and madly in love with me. Don't be a bitch towards her."

When I was behind the wheel, V and I connected. She purred and begged for me to drive her wild. After buckling, I looked at Mr. Felton, who looked out at the wisps of clouds above. He gave me a head nod and a hurry up gesture with his hand.

With a kick of the clutch and snap to first gear, I made a U-turn and raced down the road. Power and pavement called my name, and I gunned it.

"Faster," Mr. Felton whispered.

Barely tapping the gas pedal caused us to fly down the road.

"See how she responds?"

"Yes."

"You and V are no different. Full of fierceness and beauty."

I watched the road carefully and tried to understand the direction of the conversation.

"You both must listen to me and respond when I give a direction."

I could feel him staring at me, but I kept my eyes on the road.

"If I tell her to do something, she does it without a fucking peep."

I pushed harder on the gas, ninety felt like nothing.

"If I tell her to stop, she asks me when."

Winding curves and Desert Mountains filled the background.

"And I give her what she needs to do her job, and be good at it. I tune her up. I make her ready to perform at full capacity."

The throttle hit one hundred miles per hour.

"She can't do anything without me. I drive her. I control her. She is mine. And so are you."

And then the bright red and blue lights flashed in the rearview.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

I couldn't concentrate.

Adrenaline shot through my body as I pulled the Aston onto the rocky gravel on the side of the road. Before I could grab my wallet from my clutch, the police officer tapped on the window. A man with dark black hair and a handlebar mustache leaned over to get a closer look.

"Yes, officer?"

"I've been following you for a few minutes. Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Umm…" I thought playing stupid girl would pay off. It didn't. Not with Mr. Asshole sitting beside me.

"What's the issue, Officer Black?"

"At one point, I clocked you at one hundred miles per hour. Do you know the speed limit?"

"I'm not sure. I'm actually not from here."

Mr. Felton leaned over the console. His head was close to mine.

"Felton."

"This is Jennifer Downs. She's actually new to the area, and I thought I would let her drive V."

The officer stood unamused, but there was a flicker of something in his eye: recognition.

"I should bring you both to jail for driving so fast. It's reckless," Officer Black said.

"Reckless is your middle name, isn't it?" Mr. Felton whispered in my ear, and I could feel his lips lightly touch the edge of my neck. My breathing accelerated and my chest rose and fell with each breath.

"I've warned you several times, Finnley. Next time, I will bring you to the station. Being reckless, playing with young women, it isn't healthy."

Officer Black lifted an eyebrow and leaned on the car.

"Exactly why I don't let women drive my cars. They can't seem to control themselves. Won't happen again, officer."

Unspoken words were exchanged between Mr. Felton and the cop, and then he left. Just like that. I should have at least gotten a warning, but received nothing. Mr. Felton had the power to persuade the law. In Texas, I would have been handed a ticket quicker than I could roll down the window.

"How long have you been dancing?"

"I never said I danced."

"Your legs did."

Amazed how unfazed he was at the potential ticket, I stared into his face.

"My adrenaline is pumping so fast right now. I can't even think."

He grabbed my wrist. My heart beat a million miles per minute.

"Wow. Did the flashing lights turn you on?" He laughed at my expense.

It was being pulled over combined with your deadly sex appeal, I wanted to say, but didn't.

"Always the asshat, aren't you?"

"Only when you are the ass, Ms. Downs."

Leaning forward in his seat, he programmed the GPS to bring us home.

I followed the route, and could see faint city lights in the distance. Another mile and I would be home, well, his home.

A tall cement fence lined the side of the road, and I knew we were almost there. Following what the GPS said, I turned into to a gate-blocked driveway.

"The code is 0619. Press enter, and the gate will close behind you."

Tall golden gates slowly opened and closed whenever I drove through. In the distance sat a fortress of a house. It was pure architectural genius with large windows lining the outside instead of walls. There was more glass than siding. I glanced inside as we passed, and could see two women inside leaning over the kitchen bar. Okay, house was an understatement, but somehow I expected nothing less than a fortress funded by sex.

"Welcome to my private compound. Felton Estates."

I rubbed my hands over the steering wheel before I removed the keys from the ignition and handed them to Mr. Felton.

"Told you V would give you the ride of your life. She's never disappointed."

As I opened the door, he pulled me back into the car. I turned my body toward him.

"Before you go in, you must know you moving here is simply protocol."

"Is that what yesterday was as well? Protocol?"

"Since you understand. Shall we?"

My first orgasm was fucking protocol.

With a beat, he opened his door, grabbed my bags from the trunk and handed them over. The sparkle in his eyes vanished; it was every woman for herself because he had turned all business.

"Since I was five."

"Excuse me?"

"I've been dancing since I was five. Trained in jazz and ballet and danced my way through college."

He swallowed, and I caught the hint of a smile form on his face, but it never manifested.

White marble steps led up to the double wooden doors. Inside stood Paisley, Jesse, and another girl whom I hadn't met yet.

"Everyone, please welcome Ms. Jennifer Downs to the house. She is new to the business, and I hope that each of you welcome her as if she were a long-lost friend."

Jesse scoffed, and Paisley elbowed her. Mr. Felton stared at Jesse until she looked away. The other girl, pretty with dark brown hair and blue-gray eyes, had freckles sprinkled across her face like stars in the night sky. There was no pattern to her prettiness. She had a natural quality about her. Not innocent but not fake, I couldn't explain it. Her hair flowed midway down her back, and she wore it in a tucked-in side swoop. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. A kindred spirit in a room full of tigers, I supposed.

"Lori, won't you show Jennifer to her room?" Paisley asked.

She didn't complain, or give dirty looks, or act upset by my presence. Instead, she introduced herself formally and grabbed a suitcase from my hand, and we walked up the stairs. I couldn't help but stare up at the high ceilings or memorize the various abstract paintings on the wall.

The upper floor had several doors lined against the wall, and I wondered how many women lived here at one time.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to being here. It doesn't take long."

Her words and voice were reassuring, soft, and motherly, although she couldn't have been much older than me.

"How many women live here?"

"Right now there are five of us here, six including you. The rest of the girls have their own places but drop in occasionally. Here we are."

The fourth door on the left would be mine.

Inside were beige walls, a sleigh bed, and a large window with a balcony. At least I had that.

"I'm right next door," she said as she pointed to the right, "if you need anything."

I smiled.

"I'm happy you're here, Jennifer. It seems everyone else is sewn into cliques. Plus it's nice to no longer be the new girl."

She gave a sincere smile and shut the door.

I unpacked my clothes and laid them in the dresser and then opened the balcony door and stepped out. The backyard had a hot tub and a pool, and a patio bar and pool house. I only imagined the kind of sex parties that happened down there. My mind went wild with naked people strutting around the pool, having sex with one another in the corner, and the moans. Oh gosh, the nasty moans. Sometimes my imagination even scared me.

Three knocks tapped on the door, and I barely cracked it. Mr. Felton leaned against the frame only enough for me to see his face.

"Yesterday was a mistake. I wanted to apologize."

"It's not like I enjoyed it anyway."

"Of course you didn't. I wouldn't expect a virgin to."

"Bastard," I whispered.

And then he walked away.

Ten

Mr. Felton and I didn't cross paths for weeks. The memories of getting naughty in his office were just that, memories. Mistake memories, if I were to term them correctly.

Training sessions, one after another, continued to bore me to death. I never knew there were so many forks and spoons, or that there were proper ways to eat spaghetti, sip wine, or cut steak. Sitting up straight and making sure to act like a lady were top on my scold list along with learning to speak only unless spoken to. No swearing, biting nails, or making ugly faces. Act interested in what the clients have to say. Men do not like women who act like barbarians, my coach said after I ate fried chicken.